Wisp
by elodie
Summary: Post RENT On a frozen night, Mark's friendships are freezing to death. Mimi and Roger are nearing their ends, as is Maureen and Joanne's relationship. When a little waif touches his life, will he be able to survive the pain of being the one to survive?
1. Prologue

Wisp

Prologue

A tiny wisp of smoke drifted up from the tiny candle. She breathed it in deeply. It was a scented candle. Smelled like cinnamon…

There's no warmth in a candle. Not like a roaring fire. But the tiny flame was like a little pet. It did nothing to physically comfort, but it made a nice little companion.

She was transfixed… It was a beautiful sight, the tiny flickering tear-shaped flame. She gently peeled off her gloves, tucking them into a fold of her expansive coat. Her fingers, once nimble, were stiff and frozen. The skin felt waxen and smooth, the usually pale skin now appeared to have a bluish tint.

She held her fingers to the tiny flame, barely feeling any heat at all. She was numb all over. She hadn't felt her toes for days.

A tiny wisp of red hair fell into her eyes, rather than push it back, she ripped it out and held it in the flame. Her green eyes lit up with delight as it crackled and burned. She was too cold to feel any pain in her scalp.

Curiously, she held her palm directly in the flame. She closed her eyes, enjoying the masochistic pleasure of burning flesh. Everything was so numb.

_Crackling, burning, acrid smell… It hurts, golden pain, making me dizzy. Dizzy, delirious, delirious and crazy. She bit her lip. It was starting to really hurt. Before she could pull her fingers away, a harsh wind blew and her tiny friend was gone. Nothing left but a wisp of smoke, but a wisp of a breeze seized that from her, too. The smell of cinnamon was gone, instead replaced by the clean smell of cold air just before it snows._

She jammed her fingers back into her gloves; ignoring the searing pain her right hand constantly reminded her of. It was better than feeling nothing at all…

Rising from her park bench, she gazed around at the empty night, hearing the cars, hearing the people, but seeing no one. They all existed, she knew, but she'd only catch a wisp of their existence if she listened carefully.

She felt a shove behind her and then her cheek throbbed. The next thing she knew, her coat and scarf were ripped from her fragile shoulders and she was left on the ground next to the bench with only a thin sweater, her gloves and a hat to protect her from the cold.

"You OK, honey?"

Looking up at the rich alto voice, she was startled by the sight of a woman, or so it seemed. Tall and thin with dusky colored skin and a brightly colored dress. She shook her head.

"How awful people are. You look freezing. I know a place where you can warm up."

"I-" She found her voice rusty. It was hard to get the words out, especially with her chattering teeth.

The woman smiled. "I'm Angel. You can trust me, honey." Angel reached out for her but she shrank back. "You don't like being touched?"

She shook her head.

"That's fine. Have you ever been to the Life Café, honey?"

She shook her head.

"It's warm. Want to come?"

_Warmth, heat, flames, fire… She nodded._

A smile spread across the he-woman's face. "Delightful!" She reached out a hand. "Need a helping hand?"

She reached out tentatively and grasped the he-woman's hand. It was more like a masculine hand, large and warm. She allowed Angel to pull her up. Heat seemed to radiate from Angel's body, despite the cold. She could feel the snow beginning to fall.

Without another word, Angel led her away from her cold Hell.

Half an hour later, she found herself in front of a small restaurant. "Angel?" She asked quietly, turning to thank her rescuer. But she was gone. With a small sigh, she entered the restaurant, hands in her pockets.

Astonished, she pulled a bundle of paper out of her pocket. There were ten twenty-dollar bills folded neatly in her hand. They hadn't been there before. "Angel…" She whispered, a tiny smile playing at her lips as she seated herself at a small table in the corner, hugging herself in an attempt to get warm.

She stared in front of her. There was a small candle on the table, cinnamon-scented she noticed. A small wisp of smoke drifted up from it. She breathed it in deeply and sighed, a bit more content and warm.


	2. Chapter 01

Wisp

Chapter 01

"December 24th, eleven PM, Eastern Standard Time. Zoom in on the empty chairs," Mark Cohen spoke as he held his camera with slightly shaking hands.

He counted six. This time last year, five of those were filled. This time next year, only four would be. And the next year? Would it really be down to three? And then two? And even then… Maureen and Joanne were never a sure thing.

"A beer'd be nice," He heard a soft voice say. Scanning the room with his camera, he stopped at a small girl he's never seen before, tucked into the corner and shivering. How could she shiver? The room was so warm. Probably some junkie…

He watched as she pulled off her gloves and blew on her hands to warm them. She stopped and stared at her palm in disgust then quickly pulled her glove back on. Her hair was red, but dirty. It looked as if it hadn't been washed in awhile. There was a gray knit hat on her head that looked as though it might have once been white. She was so little…

Mark turned his camera off and approached her. "Hi, are you cold?" He asked her.

Her head snapped up at him, wide green eyes staring back at him in terror. "P-Pardon?"

"Are you cold?" Mark repeated slowly.

"Oh, um-" She noticed how much she'd been shivering. "Yeah, kinda."

"Want my coat?" Mark shrugged of his plaid coat and held it out to her.

She hesitated. "You don't need it?"

Mark shrugged. "Not now."

"I-" She refused to meet his gaze. "I don't usually accept anything from strangers…"

Mark plopped down in the chair across form her. "I'm Mark Cohen."

She tentatively reached across the table and took the coat, careful not to let it touch the candle. "Thanks. I'm Winnie."

"Winnie…?"

"Just Winnie," She said firmly. She slid the coat around her thin shoulders, still shivering.

"Hey," Mark reached across the table to put his hand on her shoulder. "Are you OK?"

Winnie shied away from his touch and nodded. She pushed her chair back and spoke in a shaking voice.

"Don't ever touch me. I-I'll be right back." She got up and pulled the coat tighter around her as she looked for the bathroom.

*          *          *

Winnie let herself into the bathroom and closed the door, not even bothering to lock it. She stared at her reflection in the mirror and nearly started crying. She looked like the bag ladies that she used to stare at when her aunt would bring her into the city. Her skin looked like she'd never seen the light of day and she had dark circles under her eyes. A slight bruise was forming around her cheek bone.

She took off her gloves and tossed them onto the floor. Her hands were so cold… Except for her right hand. It was just numb, except when she moved it. She clenched her fingers into a fist and nearly screamed because of the pain. Her palm was blistered and white like lilies, the sores open and oozing pus and blood.

She grabbed a few paper towels and wrapped them around her hand. She was still so cold. She sank to the floor, leaning against the door, absentmindedly sticking her left hand into the coat pocket. She fingered the few things in the pocket, humming a small tune.

Her fingers grasped a small box, like the type that jewelry was gift-wrapped in. Curiosity got the best of her and she pulled it out and removed the top. There, on a bed of cotton, glinting in the fluorescent lighting of the bathroom was a silver razor blade.

She shivered, it was such an ominous thing, razor blades were…

The end of Winnie Wielkopolski… It would serve her father right. It would be the end of her pain. She wouldn't be so cold anymore… Her hand would stop hurting.

_No more cold, no more pain, no suffering, no hunger, no cold, no pain, no growling, no fighting, no cold, no pain, no screaming, no cold, no pain, no cold…_

Her thoughts ran together all at once and she could determine one thought form the others. It kept echoing in her head: no cold, no pain, no cold, no screaming… She gingerly held the blade in her right hand and pushed the long sleeve of her coat up her arm, then the sleeve of her sweater.

She pressed the razor to her wrist, pressing just slightly to see how sharp it really was. A small trickle of blood appeared; a tiny wisp of what would soon run in rivers from her wrists. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath, then took a slow but firm swipe at her pale skin.

It stung but she knew it would all be over soon. She held the razor in her shaking left hand and pushed her other sleeves up, cutting an identical line in her right wrist.

Dropping the bloody razor on the cold tiled floor, she leaned her head back against the door and closed her eyes, bracing herself for the end.

*          *          *

Mark shook his head at the girl's – Winnie's – quick exit. Girls always tended to do that around him. He got up to go sit back at his usual table. Six empty seats. Wait – no, five…

"Marky!"

"Hey Maureen," Mark sat down next to her. She looked like she wanted to cry, but Mark knew Maureen. She was too proud to cry. "Fight with Joanne?"

Maureen shook her head in disbelief. "I'm never _good_ enough for _her_! Everything I do, it's always 'That's stupid' or 'That's impractical!' I think this might be the end. I actually made her cry."

"You kicked her?"

Maureen glared. "_No_. We were yelling and she just started sobbing. I've never seen her cry. It was scary. People always look so ugly when they're crying…"

Mark sighed and downed the beer he'd left sitting on the table. "Have you heard anything about…?"

"No," She shook her head. "Roger's locked himself in the bathroom in the loft. I'm worried about him. Collins is trying to coax him out."

"But what about Mimi?"

Maureen raised her eyebrows in surprise. "Mimi? Mark, I thought you knew."

"Knew what?" Mark demanded, leaning forward onto the table, knuckles gripping the edge.

Maureen refused to look him in the eyes. "The doctor said she has a month, two at the most."

"Oh," Mark deflated. "I knew about that."

They sat in silence for a few minutes, listening to the sounds around them. Maureen tapped her fingers on the table; Mark stared at the camera in his lap.

"Mark?"

"Yeah?"

"Why aren't you back at the loft with Roger and Collins?"

Mark sighed. "Roger kicked me out."

Maureen raised an eyebrow. "Kicked you out?"

He cringed. "More like ordered me out. He was going crazy. He started screaming at me and he nearly smashed my camera. And when I dove to catch it, he started screaming that I care more about that fucking camera than I do about him. So I left and came here. I figured I could cool off."

"Speaking of cooling off, where's your jacket? It didn't get stolen, did it?"

Mark immediately remembered Winnie. "Oh, I lent it to this girl. She was really cold. Speaking of which, she's been in the bathroom an awful long time. Do you think she's OK?"

Maureen shrugged and stood up. "Well, I'll see. I gotta take a leak anyway."

*          *          *

The bathroom door wouldn't open. It wasn't locked, but there was something blocking it. Odd…

"Excuse me?" Maureen called through the door. "I really gotta piss! I don't care if someone's fucking in there, I'm not about to wet my pants in public." She shoved the door open and felt was ever was blocking it move aside. There was a thump and the door swung open.

The first thing she noticed was the blood on the floor. Then the bloody razor. So much blood. Maureen's jaw dropped. She let go of the door and the body of a young girl pushed it back so that it would have slammed if Maureen's foot hadn't been in the way.

Blood ran in rivers form the girl's wrists. She was bundled up in what Maureen recognized as Mark's plaid coat.

"Mark?" Maureen stammered. "Mark?" She yelled a little louder. "_Mark!" She screamed, grabbing the girl and pulling her up off the floor. She had to get to a hospital. "Mark, help me!"_

*          *          *

Mark heard Maureen call his name and set his beer down on the table gently. But then he heard her yell again. She was sounding frantic. Something was up. Where had she gone? Oh, the bathroom, right, of course.

She kept telling his name louder and more frantically. She needed help.

Mark ran over to the bathrooms to see what was wrong and froze in his tracks when he saw Maureen pulling the girl – Winnie – out of the bathroom. There was blood everywhere. And on the bathroom floor…his razorblade.

"Mark! Snap out of it! We have to get her to the hospital! I'll go get a cab, I can't carry her." Maureen passed her hold on Winnie to Mark and ran to hail a cab.

He picked her up easily. She was tiny and so thin. He found himself face to face with her, her eyes were open slightly and she was blinking every now and again.

"Winnie," He whispered, carrying her to Maureen outside on the street. "Winnie, don't die. Fucking Christ, don't die. There's too much death here already."

Maureen managed to flag down a passing cab and opened the door for Mark. He just cradled her in his arms, begging her not to die. Oh, this was all his fault. He knew it…


	3. Chapter 02

**A/N: Now, I don't actually know how plausible the second half of this is in real life, but it was a bit important to the story, so please disregard any errors I make. Thanks again! Reviews are the food of life, btw…**

Wisp

Chapter 02

"December 25th, three AM, Eastern Standard Time. Mo and I have awaited Winnie's fate in the waiting room long enough. We decided to take a tiny, but firm, leap of faith and go outside in the snow."

"Marky," Maureen whispered loudly. "Shut up."

Mark scowled. "Why?"

"Because you left your camera at the Life. You're annoying me."

"Sorry, it's a habit." Mark sighed and lay down in the snow arms spread wide. "Did you ever used to make snow angels, Maureen?"

Maureen lay next to him, eye looking straight up at the thousands of stars obscured by the clouds. "No. I actually hated the snow. My mother locked me outside one night when it was snowing. Every time it began to snow, I'd remember that cold, lonely feeling I had that night and I'd lock myself in the bathroom and take the hottest bubble bath I could stand."

"I never knew that…" Mark said softly, looking at his ex-girlfriend with a new found respect.

Maureen shrugged and began to make a snow angel. "I don't tell many people. Only Joanne knows. She was a fall-down drunk."

"Who? Joanne?"

"No, my mother. She'd always yell at me and call me names. Sure did wonders for my self-esteem. So I'd look for positive attention in other places and found it on the stage. That's when I began to sleep around, too. I read somewhere that girls who have low self-esteem tend to have sex sooner, and _boy did I…" She laughed softly. "I was the slut of the town."_

Mark laced his fingers together and used his hands as his pillow, his elbows just barely touching the edges of Maureen's angel. "You never told me."

"You didn't ask…" Maureen said quietly, her arms and legs slowing to a halt.

"You really love Joanne, don't you?"

"Yeah…"

"I loved you, you know."

"Yeah…"

Mark sighed and took off his glasses. They were beginning to get wet from the snow. He rested them on his chest.

"Mark, aren't you cold?"

"No, why?"

"You aren't wearing a coat."

"Oh. Yeah." Mark hugged his arms around him tighter, remembering where his coat had gone.

"Mark, that box that was on the bathroom floor… It looks like the one I've seen you carry around for the past year." Maureen sat up and stared at him. "The razor didn't come out of the box, did it?" Mark refused to meet her gaze. "_Did it?"_

Mark sat up and grasped his feet, allowing his glasses to fall into the snow, and stretched out his sore muscles. "It…" He shook his head, sighing harshly. "Yes, it was mine. Oh God, this is all my fault…" A few tears dripped down his face. "She must have found it in my pocket."

"But _why, Mark? Usually carrying around a razor means you're… Oh God! You're not _suicidal_ are you?" Maureen screeched, leaping to her feet._

Mark grabbed her hand and pulled her back down gently. "Shh, Maureen! Yes, I've been… Contemplating it. Only contemplating. It's complicated."

"Mark, you never let on! Oh God, I'm such a bad friend… I didn't have a clue."

"Maureen, it's OK," Mark grabbed at Maureen's hands. She was talking with them again and it was getting on his nerves. "I'm good at hiding things. And anyways, I'm feeling guilty as it is. Because of me, that girl could die."

Sighing, Maureen shook off Mark's grin on her hands. "She won't die. I think we got her here in time. Anyway, hoe do you know her?"

"I met her at the Life. She was shivering so I offered her my coat. She wouldn't let me touch her. She seemed so scared of everything."

"She looked like she was fifteen."

"A runaway?"

"Maybe."

They were silent for a moment.

Then Maureen tentatively spoke up. "Do you know who she reminded me of?"

"Who?"

"April."

*          *          *

When Winnie opened her eyes, there was bright blinding white. Everything white… She was clad in a white hospital gown; her wrists were bandaged in white gauze, as was her right hand. She glanced around her surroundings, using only her eyes, not moving the rest of her body.

The walls were painted white. She hated white… It was unnerving. There were nurses in white uniforms, the sheets were white, the fluorescent lights gave off a creepy white light that made her pale skin look even more transparent. There was another bed in the room, also stark white, but it was occupied by a person that was almost shocking compared to the stark surroundings.

A young woman, about twenty or so, with wild dark hair and medium-dark skin. Of Spanish descent? She turned her head to get a better look. The woman's eyes were wide open, but sad looking. She was certainly pretty, but her complexion was, at closer inspection, quite sallow and unhealthy.

The girl turned her head and smiled weakly. "So you're awake. It's been lonely."

"You too?" Winnie shivered and pulled the sheets around her tighter. She winced when her wrists stung.

The girl nodded. "Yeah. Christmas and stuck here. I'm just hoping my boyfriend comes to visit. And my friends. I bet they will…"

Winnie sighed. "I wish I had people who could visit me. I don't know anyone, really. Just this guy from last night. And a loud woman. But it was kind of woozy. All I can remember is that she was very loud."

The girl grinned. "Sounds like a friend of mine. I'm Mimi."

"Winnie," She said softly.

"Well, if you don't have anyone to visit you, you can share my visitors. _If they decide to come." Mimi scowled but flashed a soft grin to Winnie. "My boyfriend, Roger, has been a little strung out lately. Last I heard he'd locked himself somewhere in the loft he shares with his roommate, Mark."_

"I met a guy named Mark last night. Why's your boyfriend strung out?"

"Because I'm dying."

"Oh…" The small smile that Winnie had been working on immediately dropped. "I'm so sor-"

Mimi interrupted. "Oh, don't be sorry. Nothing you can do. Nothing I can do. Nothing the doctors can do. Roger's dying too, actually…." She said softly. "You met someone named Mark last night? Where?"

"The Life Café. He gave me his coat when I got cold."

"Was it Mark Cohen by any chance?" Winnie nodded. "Well, that's Roger's roommate. He's a doll. Just be careful. If you get too close to him, he sticks a camera in your face."

Winnie smiled, remembering seeing him film all the people having a late dinner the night before. "I noticed. I think he already filmed me."

"Ah. Poor thing. So, what're you in for?"

Winnie grimaced and held up her bandaged wrists.

Mimi scowled. "I'm not going to lecture, because you're going to get a lot of that later. But I will say, when you're like I am and don't have much time left, you realize just how much you'll miss living. Even if you think you have nothing to live for, sometimes life throws you a loop and you find you _do have something to live for."_

Winnie nodded. "I have nothing to my name but a bit of money that a stranger gave me last night, a hat, a scarf, a pair of gloves and the clothes I wore yesterday. And the borrowed coat. But it's kind of, well, ruined now…" She glanced down at her wrists and winced. If there was one thing she'd remember forever, it would be the blood. "I have no home; my family is now family to me, no friends, no nothing."

"Well," Mimi began, "I can say that you have a lot more than I did when I first met Roger. Maybe I had a few more material possessions, but materialism's shit. You're here, aren't you? Unless you did that right here in the hospital, someone had to rescue you and bring you here, right?"

She shrugged. Yeah, they saved her, didn't they? If it wasn't for Mark and that loud woman she'd be dead.

Dead… Just a final word. It didn't have any chime to it like reincarnation or birth. It was just as it was. Dead. Finality. One tiny syllable, easy to say. Dead. The type of word that rolls off tongues like when gum slips out of her mouth when she laughs. Like when she was in elementary school and she didn't do her homework. She'd say, "Man, I'm dead." But she wouldn't be. She'd be alive. Like she was now…

"The loud woman that was with him… A friend of yours?"

Mimi nodded. "If it's who I think it is, it's Maureen. She saved me once too, actually. Well, sort of. I was sick and freezing on a park bench and she and her girlfriend, Joanne, found me and brought me to Roger and Mark's. And then I died. But Angel saved me."

Angel… Angel… Why did that name sound familiar? Winnie's eyebrows shot sky high. "Angel? Was she – erm, he? – a drag queen?" When Mimi nodded, Winnie nearly smiled. "She saved me last night, too. Or, sort of. I was out on a park bench and then someone stole my coat and scarf and hit me. She picked me up and brought me to the Life Café and gave me money. But then she disappeared…" She scrunched her forehead. "I don't know what happened to her."

Mimi's jaw dropped. "Honey, but… Angel's _dead_. She died of AIDS over a year ago."

"Well, maybe it was someone else…"

Mimi shrugged. "Maybe. There isn't a shortage of drag queens around here. Angel was special. She really lived up to her name. She was the seams that kept us together through some rough patches. She and Collins…" She was interrupted by deep hacking coughs. Her body shook so violently that Winnie thought she was going to pass out. When Mimi had finished, her face was beet red. She smiled apologetically at Winnie. "Sorry. Getting over pneumonia."

"That's OK." Winnie was beginning to realize that the girl's scratchy voice really _was horse._

"Anyway, Angel was a godsend. Her funeral was a bit of an undoing for us."

"You keep referring to 'us'. Is that you and your friends."

Mimi nodded sadly. "Yeah. There's Roger, Mark, Maureen, Joanne, Collins and well… I don't know if I really want to count Benny now. So you don't sound like you're from New York. You have a different accent. Where are you from?"

Winnie sighed. "Gloucester, Massachusetts."

"Did you like it?"

Winnie shrugged. "I don't really…"

"Oh," Mimi interrupted. "It's OK. Stupid question. Of course you hated it. I bet it was smothering. Why else would you be here?"

Winnie was about to answer when the door opened and Mark entered, knocking a few times on the doorjamb. He had his camera in his hand, claimed from the Life very early in the morning.

"Merry Christmas, Feliz Navidad, happy Hell!" Mark grinned widely. "They called me this morning, Winnie. Said you'd probably be discharged before the week's over. So I came to visit and found that you were rooming with darling Mimi so you made my lazy ass excited." He collapsed in one of the hard plastic chairs by the window.

Winnie nearly cracked a smile. "By the end of the week? Gotta be a catch."

Mark shrugged it off. "Of, of course. But they told me nada. I guess they'll update you later. And Mimi, Roger's on his way. He's just… Well, venting."

Mimi sighed. "How this time?"

"Having a sheet music burning."

"Why didn't you stop him?"

"Didn't have the chance. I was already here and figured that there's nothing I can do. His music was already gone by the time I called. I'd just agitate him by going back and arguing with him."

Mimi hugged her arms around herself. "I wish he'd visit more."

"He'll be here. He promised."

Winnie sat in silence, watching the interaction between the two. Mimi looked more and more lost and Mark looked like his heart was breaking but he still kept a strange, neutral tone in his voice.

"Mark, I have a favor to ask…"

"Anything."

Mimi bit her lip and swallowed once, closing her eyes. "I already know that I don't have long left. I want to die at home. With you and Roger and everyone. Not here in a hospital."

A sob escaped from a person standing in the doorjamb. "Mimi…" Roger rushed to her bedside and held her hands in his, kneeling beside her. "Mimi, don't say that."


	4. Chapter 03

Thanks for the reviews. They've kind so far. ::grin:: Also, I just want to ask that if any of the characterizations seem a bit off, tell me. This is the part of fanfiction that I find so hard because everyone has their own ideas about what these characters are like. So, if you don't like the way I characterize someone, tell me. I need a bit of construction work on this, but overall, I'm proud of what I'm banging out. And remember, reviews are the food of life…

Peace

-elodie

Wisp

Chapter 03

Winnie was glad when a doctor came to talk with her, closing the curtain between her and Mimi. She felt like she was intruding. Mimi and Roger were crying and kissing and saying they loved each other.

Her heart aches. No one had ever treated her like that. She always felt like this around couples. In high school… God, she was lucky if a boy even realized that she sat next to them in class. Then again, she wasn't in class much.

The doctor, Doctor Lawrence, had asked Mark to leave, but Winnie said that she didn't mind having him there. She needed someone there for her, even if it was a perfect stranger.

"Well, Miss Winnie – what is your last name, first of all?"

Winnie wouldn't look at him. "I don't want to tell."

"And why is that?"

"Because you'd make me go back home."

The doctor sighed and stood at the edge of her bed. Winnie could see Mark carefully scrutinizing her. She sighed with relief that he wasn't filming.

"Miss Winnie, are you a runaway?" She nodded. "And how old are you?"

"Seventeen. Eighteen on Christmas."

Mark spoke up." Winnie, it _is_ Christmas. You're already eighteen."

Winnie thought about it for a moment and then the corner of her mouth twitched. "You _can't send me back. I'm a legal adult now. Well, doctor, my full name is Winifred Wielkopolski, but my family always called me Winnie."_

"And where did you run away from?" The doctor's voice was gentle.

"Gloucester."

"Massachusetts?"

Winnie nodded.

"And may I ask where you will be residing once we release you?"

Winnie froze. "Um, well…" She lifted her head up and looked at the doctor apologetically. "As of last night, my permanent residence was a bench in the park."

"You have _nowhere you can go? Is there a friend you could stay with?"_

"She can stay with me."

Winnie leaned around the doctor and stared at Mark with wide eyes. "Oh, but I don't want to be a bother…"

Mark insisted. "Not a bother at all. We've fit five people in the loft before. We can certainly fit three. Where else are you going to stay? A park bench?"

"OK…" She smiled shyly at him.

The doctor cleared his throat and scribbled a note on his clipboard. "Well, not that that's settled, we can probably discharge you tomorrow or the next day. You'll have to get counseling a few times a week. We can set that up soon. As far as I see, you're healthy and ready to leave."

*          *          *

Two days later and with Mark's help, Winnie trudged up the stairs to the loft. Her frail, out-of-shape body was already out of breath, but Mark walked slowly so she could keep up.

He couldn't believe just how little she was. He wasn't exactly tall. He was about 5'8", perhaps a bit taller. But she couldn't even be five feet tall.

Unlocking the door, he let it swing open and with a grand sweep of his arm, he said in the most dramatic way possible, "Your castle, your highness." Placing his camera down on the table, he motioned for her to sit down. "Make yourself at home. Well, I guess it is your home now, right?" Winnie shrugged, gazing at the view out the window. It was really cold. She hugged Mark's coat around her, staring at the bloodstains on it with a queasy stomach.

"Anyway, I'm sure you want to take a shower. I'm going to call a friend to pick up a few things for us. Want anything specific? Food, aspirin, gum?"

"Chewing gum. Wintergreen."

"OK. Anything else?"

"Yeah…" Winnie smiled softly. "A cinnamon scented candle. I mean, if that's OK…"

Mark nodded. "Anything you want. And I guess I'll take you or have Maureen take you to a few thrift shops to get some clothes. Anything else you'd like?"

Winnie nodded and blushed. "Well, kind of… I – I haven't been able to shave my legs in the last few months and I'd kind of like to, but I'm not allowed any sharp objects. It's just this weird thing with me. I'd shave compulsively when I was younger. It was a comfort thing."

Mark stared at her for a second, but nodded again, grinning widely. "If that's what you want, I'll shave your legs for you."

"And cut my hair? It's knotted and scissors are sharp."

"Well, you might want Maureen to do that. As you can see, my hair cutting skills are not as fine as my shaving skills are." He pointed to his head and she tried to stifle a laugh. His blond hair stuck out in all different directions.

"OK," She blushed, sorry that she'd laughed. "Do you mind if I go take a shower?"

Mark shook his head and showed her to the bathroom. "Not at all." He discreetly grabbed the two razors sitting by the sink, Roger's taped one and his ancient one, and his them behind his back. "We don't have much hot water, usually, so you should probably try to get through quickly."

Winnie nodded and smiled softly, suddenly very self-conscious. "Well, thanks. For everything, I mean. If it weren't for you, I'd be out on the streets. I must be a terrible burden."

"No, never a burden." He started to slowly back out of the bathroom. "And anything you need, I'm your beast of burden. I'll even shave your pits if you want." He grinned and Winnie could feel her face flush crimson.

"I was afraid that was asking a little too much…"

"For you, nothing's too much."

As he closed the door behind him, Winnie noticed the can of shaving cream but noted the absence of razors. She shivered. She would never handle a razor herself again.

*          *          *

"Mark, don't screen. Throw down the key!" Mark heard Collins' voice crackle from the old answering machine. He grabbed the small pouch and tossed it out the window, grinning at the form of Collins down below.

A minute later, Collins let himself in and set the shopping bags down on the floor. "Now, I'm assuming it isn't you who wanted the candle, am I correct?"

Mark nodded. "Yup, that's Winnie's."

"Winnie's?"

"Oh, a girl Maureen and I took to the hospital last night."

"Mark, is it OK if- Oh, excuse me, sorry…" Winnie's towel-clad form had appeared and then disappeared rapidly back into the bathroom.

Collins raised an eyebrow. "The elusive Winnie?"

Mark nodded and called to her, "Winnie, it's OK. He's harmless." He flashed a cheeky grin at Collins. "This is my friend, Tom Collins. Collins, this is Winnie."

Winnie emerged from the bathroom, still in a towel, but with Mark's coat wrapped around her, self-consciously pulling the sleeves as far over her bandaged wrists and hand as possible.

"H-Hi Collins," She said quietly.

"And hello to you, Miss Winnie. I believe this is your candle." He held out the candle to her. She tentatively reached out and took it, holding it to her chest, feeling the smooth wax underneath her fingertips. She loved the smell of cinnamon.

"Thanks. Mark, do you have any matches?"

Mark grabbed the matchbook off the table and passed it to her. "Yep. Here you go."

She smiled in thanks and wet off to light the candle.

"Mark, _why exactly is she here? I'm quite curious. It isn't every day that there's a girl in your apartment." Collins moved in closer, whispering so she couldn't hear._

Mark shrugged. "Well, she didn't have anywhere to go when she got released. So I offered. It is a bit lonely here, anyway. Roger's always gone or locked in his room. She's really lost right now. I don't know much, but she's a runaway, just turned eighteen and has more than a few problems."

Collins smiled and clapped him on the back. "You fucking do-gooder. But I commend you. Now, let's see the _real_ reason you asked her to stay." He raised his eyebrows suggestively.

Mark blushed. "But that _was_ the real reason."

They glanced at Winnie, leaning on the table, staring at the lit candle transfixed. Collins said, "Sure it was."

"Hey, Winnie," Mark said to her, much louder than when he'd been talking with Collins. "What was it that you were going to ask me?"

Winnie turned, a bit startled by the sudden increase in volume. "Oh, I was just going to ask if I could borrow some clothes."

"Oh, yeah sure. C'mon, I'll get you some."

She followed him into hi bedroom where he pulled a sweater and a pair of brown corduroy pants out of his dresser.

"Here," Mark said, handing them to her. "You can wear these for now. The pants will be really long, but you can just roll them up and pin them. And if the waist is too loose, then I can give you one of Roger's belts."

Winnie smiled shyly. "Thanks."

"No problem. Like I said before, we can ht a few thrift shops some time. You can actually find clothes that fit."

"Thanks."

"Y'know, you don't have to thank me for everything."

"Oh, sorry." Winnie blushed.

"No problem."

*          *          *

Roger came in later that night and collapsed on the couch.

"Rough day?" Mark looked up from his notebook.

"Huh?" Roger looked exhausted. Roger _was_ exhausted. He forced his mind to work. What had Mark said?

"I said, rough day?"

He said 'rough day.' Roger nodded. "Fuck yeah. Mark, she's really dying…"

Mark awkwardly sat down next to him. "Yeah, she is, Rog."

"I feel really sick." He began to cough. Mark began to notice just how pale and thin he'd gotten.

Mark reached over and felt Roger's forehead. "Hey, you're burning up."

"But I feel so cold…" Roger was shivering.

"Hey, Rog. Let's get you to bed. I'll get you some Tylenol. Would you like some tea? Warm milk?"

"Just some water," Roger rasped. He let Mark pull him up and help him into his bedroom. By the time Mark had brought him the water; Roger had already changed into his pajamas and had climbed into bed.

"She wants to die at home, Mark."

"I know."

"That's so final… Like there's no hope."

Mark winced. "I hate to be the pessimist, Rog, but… Never mind. Just get some rest. You're very sick." He turned off the light and retreated into the living room. Winnie had curled up on the couch in his absence, a photo album open in her lap.

"Hey. You're still up?"

Winnie looked up. "Yeah. Couldn't sleep. And I found this album."

Mark plopped down beside her. "Oh, yeah. This is from about four or five years ago."

"There's no pictures of you."

"Oh, there's a few. But I took most of the pictures."

Winnie grazed her fingers over the plastic covering the pictures. There was a picture of Roger with his guitar and a picture of Collins and another girl with long auburn hair. "Who's this?"

Mark glanced at the picture and grimaced. "Oh, that's April. She was Roger's old girlfriend. When she found out that they were HIV positive, she slit her wrists."

Winnie squirmed a bit, further pulling the sleeves down over her hands. "Oh…" She flipped the page, seeing more pictures of the girl. She was a very photogenic girl, always smiling. She looked vaguely familiar. "I recognize her… Where was she from?"

Mark shrugged. "We were never really sure. We knew she's run away. She wasn't from around here. Maybe from Boston. She talked kind of like you do, actually."

"I think she might have been an old babysitter of mine."

"Really?" Mark's eyebrows shot up.

Winnie nodded. "When I was ten, I had this great babysitter. She was only thirteen and actually treated me like an equal. I think her name was April… I'm not completely sure." She traced the contour of the girl's face. "So she killed herself?"

Mark nodded. "Yeah… She and Roger were junkies. They were clean for awhile, but got pulled in by some of the band members. And everything went downhill from there."

"I can imagine…" She flipped the page again and smiled at a picture of Mark and Maureen kissing. Her hand had snaked down the front of his pants and his eyes were wide open in surprise.

"Hey!" Mark turned the page again quickly. "I'd forgotten that was in there. Collins took that one."

Winnie smiled at a few more pictures. There were a few of Roger and April and some of Collins and another guy.

"Who's this?"

"Benny. Our ex-roommate. Our current landlord. Maureen's sworn enemy."

"Ah."

On the last page was a picture of the six of them on what Winnie recognized as the Staten Island ferry. Maureen and Mark were hugging, big smiles on their faces. Benny was using Collins as an armrest and Roger held April like a baby in his arms.

"Can I ask you a sensitive question?" Mark asked tentatively, after a few minutes of silence.

Winnie nodded. "Maybe…"

"Why did you do it?"

Winnie froze, closing the photo album gently. "Well, I felt that I didn't have anything to live for. I was sleeping on a park bench, I had no friends, I was so cold… I was so out of it that I'd burnt my hand just to see if my hands still felt pain. So when I found that razor in your coat pocket…" She shrugged, starting to shiver again.

Mark reached over tentatively and wrapped his arm around her shoulder, pulling her to him. Winnie stiffened at first, but then realized that there was no harm at all and just melted against him. It had been so long since anyone had held her tenderly in their arms. Her shivering began to slow.

"How did you end up here?"

"Well," Winnie began." You know I'm a runaway, right?" Mark nodded. "Well, my dad… He'd beat me up a lot. Really badly sometimes. My mother had no backbone. He'd do it to her, too. But she didn't do anything about it. I didn't either. Not until the very end. I finally stood up to him and he just beat the living shit out of me. So I left. I didn't even leave a note. I just packed a small bag and hitched until I got here."

Mark twirled a tendril of Winnie's red hair around his forefinger. "I'm sorry…"

Winnie shrugged. "Don't be. But you know what I'm most mad about? I didn't get to graduate. I was smart. And I mean I was _real_ smart. Not to be stuck-up or anything, but my PSAT scores were out of this world. My teachers hated me because I usually skipped to get high with a few acquaintances in the parking lot during class. And when I was in class, I never talked. I'd hide in the back corners."

Mark, for once, knew what to say. He sympathized with her. "I kind of know what you mean. I always felt my one big mistake was dropping out of college. I went to Brown for a few months, couldn't hack it. So I came here and met Roger and he invited me to stay with him."

"Hey Mark?"

"Yeah?"

"Why were you carrying around a razor?"

And then the lights went out.


	5. Chapter 04

Wisp

Chapter 04

"December 28th, twelve thirty AM, Eastern Standard Time. Observe as we crack out the old illegal wood burning stove again." Mark had decided to start filming again. He couldn't sleep, he was sure Winnie couldn't. The temperature in the loft had dropped below freezing. The fire helped to keep them warm, but it was still impossibly cold.

Winnie was huddled on the couch, five blankets wrapped around her. "Does this happen a lot?" She asked, her voice muffled by the blanket she'd pulled over her face to keep her nose warm.

Mark nodded. "Unfortunately so. The place is shit but it's home and has been so for so long that it'd kill me to leave. Besides, I have nowhere to go. So, Winnie Wielkopolski, tell me about yourself."

She blushed, pulling the blanket away from her face. "What should I say? There isn't much to me."

"Anything. Your middle name, favorite animal, favorite film, anything."

"Well," Winnie began. "My middle name is Whisper."

"Really?"

"Yeah. My mum had a friend named Whisper when she was younger. It turns out that my mum's schizophrenic and that she was a figment of her imagination but I still like it." Winnie felt a little shy talking to Mark about this but she figured he could be trusted. "And, um, I like dogs… When I was younger, I loved Marilyn Monroe."

Mark nodded in approval. "The most common subject of wet dreams in the world. The blond bombshell. Did you know that her face is trademarked?"

Winnie shook her head. "No, I didn't know that. I had a bunch of Marilyn posters in my room back home. I kind of wish I'd brought them with me, but I didn't exactly have a choice."

Mark wrote down a note on his mental checklist to go to a cheap poster shop he knew of and find her a Marilyn poster. "I used to have this fixation with Bettie Page."

"The naughty girl-next-door. Face like an angel, clothes like a dominatrix. Kinky."

"No one around here's heard of her!" Mark complained. "I'm so glad you have. Roger had no idea who she was. I went out and got him a picture. I caught him masturbating once while staring at it."

Winnie grinned. "Gross. And like you never have."

"I never said that."

She stuck her tongue out at him. "So you and Roger are really close, huh?"

"Yeah, I guess we are. He's my best friend, after all. Did you ever have a best friend?"

Winnie shrugged. "Well, no. I was never really one for friends. I mean, I knew a couple potheads who knew what it was like for me at home so they always shared a joint with me when I wanted. But that was it." She snorted. "I was so pathetic I wasn't even friends with the other nerds in my grade."

"Ah, the nerds. I was one. AV club and everything."

Winnie nearly laughed. "So, what do you do with all your footage? I saw you at the Life the other night and you were just filming random people."

"I make films. Documentaries, you could say. I made one last year. Over the course of a year. Christmas to Christmas. It was…eventful."

"Can I… Can I see it sometime?"

Mark smiled. "Really, you want to?" Winnie nodded. "Well, yeah, sure. I mean, it's not genius or anything, but, well, you'll see. Anyway, this has been a burning question… What really did bring you to Alphabet City?"

"A stranger named Angel." Winnie smiled softly, remember the stranger's kindness. "She picked me up off my feet after someone stole my coat, dusted me off and brought me to the Life. Then she disappeared."

Mark froze and chose that moment to switch off the camera. "Angel?"

"Mimi said you had a friend named Angel. That she died."

Mark nodded absently. "Yeah, Angel. You'll see her when you watch my film. Angel was great. A real angel… Hey, are you cold?"

Winnie realized just how much she was shivering and nodded. "Are you?"

Mark shrugged. "Well, sort of."

"I mean, I have the blankets and your coat…"

"Do you know that sharing body heat is the best way to warm up?" Winnie shook her head. "Mind sharing a few blankets?"

"Not at all." Winnie held up a few blankets so Mark could crawl under them. She snuggled up against him, leaning her head on his shoulder.

"Winnie?"

"Mmm?"

"You're happy here, right?"

Winnie tilted her head, staring up at him with those big green eyes. "Well, I've only been here a day. But so far, yes… Even though it's so cold, it's still warmer than my past residences." She rolled her eyes. "You know what I mean, right? I meant it figuratively not literally."

Mark nodded. "I understand. You think too much, Miss Winnie. I'm going to let you use my shoulder as a pillow tonight, OK?  Get some sleep."

"Thanks, Mark…" Winnie murmured, already starting to doze off.

Mark huddle under the blanket with her. She was still shivering a bit, so was he. But she wasn't shaking as much as she usually was. God, it was fucking cold… The stove did little to heat up the room unless he stood right next to it. It just provided some much needed light. How he wished to have a little granny radiator in the corner… One that actually worked. There was an old one in Roger's room. But that was broken before they even had moved in.

There might be one in Collins' old room… Mark noted in his mental checklist to check for it tomorrow.

"Mark?"

Mark's head snapped up. He'd just started to doze off. He lifted his head to see Roger in the doorway. "Hey Roger. You should be resting."

"Is the power out again?"

Mark nodded.

Roger mumbled something that sounded suspiciously like 'yuppie motherfucker' but Mark chose to ignore it.

"Are you cold?"

"Fuck yeah."

Mark motioned for him to sit next to him on the couch and pulled the blanket over him. Roger snuggled against him, leaning his head against Mark's free shoulder.

"Mark?"

"Yeah?"

"Sorry I've been such a dick the past few days. I'm just kind of stressed."

"I know.

"She's really dying…"

"I know."

"She can't die."

"We all will sometime."

Roger sighed. "But why does she have to _now_?"

"A mystery of life. The eternal question. Go to sleep. You need rest so you can get better to visit Mimi tomorrow."

"Visit Mimi…" Roger murmured.

Within minutes Roger was fast asleep, snoring softly. Only with Roger was snoring endearing. Maureen snored. She woke up a neighbor once. Mark hated sleeping in the same room with her sometimes because he could never get to sleep. But Roger's was just soft, not booming. It almost sounded like wheezing. Mark ruffled Roger's dirty blond hair.

He missed having his best friend, well…normal.

On his right, Winnie was whistling slightly. Mark sighed. Now he wasn't going to be able to get to sleep. He peeked at the clock on the wall. "December 28th, two AM, Eastern Standard Time. Zoom in on Mark, stuck in the realm of the living while his companions drift into the realm of sweet sleep," He whispered. Too bad he couldn't get up to get his camera. There was nothing to film, but he could have found something.

He felt Winnie stir beside him, but she just shifted positions a bit. She still leaned on his shoulder. Mark Cohen: the world's only living pillow.

Well, it was time for the living pillow to get some sleep for himself…

*          *          *

"December 31st, eleven PM, Eastern Standard Time. Pan left on Mimi's apartment. It's New Year's Eve and we're losing our Mimi…"

Mark's eyes were starting to fill with tears. He always felt self-conscious about crying. So many people had told him never to cry… His father, bullies at school, April…

Mimi had been allowed to leave the hospital. A Hospice nurse was on the way. Mimi was losing the fight. Mimi was pale. Mimi's breathing was labored. Mimi wanted to give a last word to all her friends.

Maureen and Joanne stood at the foot of the bed, treating each other with faux affection. Mimi never had found out that they were on the rocks again, this time maybe the last and they felt it was better that she didn't know. Roger knelt beside her, nuzzling her thin shoulder like a sad puppy. Winnie hid in the corner, Collins paced, Mark filmed.

He didn't know when to stop filming. It was so rude… He just couldn't stop himself. He'd filmed Angel when he died and it nearly killed him to watch the footage. He'd burned it. And now Mimi… But the reactions of everyone were so compelling.

He had to stop himself. With shaking hands, he turned off the camera and set it down on the floor next to Winnie.

"I love you," Mimi whispered to Roger.

"God, Mimi, I love you so much… Don't leave me, please! Mimi chica…" Roger began to sob.

"I'm not gone yet, Roger. I don't only admit that I love you when I'm dying, you know," She chuckled a bit. "Sorry. Black hospital humor. The nurses got me hooked." She looked around at everyone in the room. "Maureen, Joanne… You love each other. You know you do. You had a fight, I can tell. And don't lie," She glared at Maureen. "You're too different and in that way you're perfect for each other."

"Honey, are you scared?" Maureen asked, gripping Mimi's hand.

Mimi nodded weakly. "Yeah, kinda. Mark? Don't hide behind the camera. Live life. Don't just watch it. Live it. Collins, you're perfect… Don't change. Put your mind to helping little people like me. Winnie… Oh, don't hide in the corner, chica. I hadn't forgotten about you."

Winnie blushed and pushed herself up, stepping forward towards the bed. "I-I was just trying to stay out of the way…"

Mimi silenced her with a peaceful smile. "Never in the way," She sighed. "Remember all that we discussed during those late, lonely nights? I know that I don't know you well and that you don't know me well. But I consider you my friend. And chica, go for it." She winked and Winnie's face immediately flushed red.

"Roger…God, I love you so much…" She began to cry, her breathing becoming more and more labored. "I don't want to leave you."

Roger had been crying for what seemed like forever before that. "Don't leave me, chica. Stay…" He leaned down and kissed her one final time. Then her hands went limp and she sank back into the pillow, her eyes closed. Roger wailed. Everything was silent except for his anguished wails.

Somewhere in the night, a girl screamed. But it wasn't a scream of fear or pain. It was of happiness and freedom.

"It's over," Mark whispered, turning his back so that no one could see him cry.


	6. Chapter 05

Reviews are the food of life! I know people have been reading. I have a support services account. I get a hit count and it's about 10 times the number of reviews. And that's just for the latest chapter. More reviews mean a happy author and chapters come more quickly when the author is happy. Just because I've been able to post one every day or so doesn't mean it will always be like that. So please, take the time to review. Reviews really are the food of life and it's the polite thing to do. Thank you and enjoy…

Peace

-elodie

Wisp

Chapter 05

"January 5th, two PM, Eastern Standard Time. Our Mimi has left us and gone on to a better place," Mark murmured to the camera. He scanned the rows of pews, mostly empty, before he sat in between Winnie and Roger in the third pew. A priest murmured a few words about their Mimi Marquez. Mark turned off his camera, holding it in his lap with shaking hands.

It didn't sound right hearing a total stranger talking about their Mimi. He had no idea what she was like, who she was, what she'd been through. But her mother had insisted on having it in a Catholic church and Mark didn't feel like putting up a fight.

Next to him, Roger sobbed. Maureen was actually praying. She'd knelt on the floor, holding her forehead against her locked hands. Joanne stared straight ahead, her back rigid and straight. Collins was silently crying. Winnie had curled up in the corner, not crying, but shivering.

"'Twas the twelfth day of Christmas and my true love gave to me…" Mark whispered. Winnie glanced up at him. "I can never remember what the twelfth day brings."

Winnie leaned her head on his shoulder, still shivering. "I can't either." She thought about it for a second. It _was_ the twelfth day after all.

It was the twelfth day of Christmas, some sort of holiday with kings or something… She could be getting milking maids and lords a' leaping, ladies dancing, geese a' laying, swans a swimming, five golden rings, all from her true love. Instead she was shivering inside a creepy old church, a _Catholic_ church for that matter, with people she barely knew. Sure, they were nice, but they'd been too occupied with Mimi's death to really pay attention to her.

Except for Mark, that is. She felt his arm slide around her to try to calm her shivering and she sighed. She didn't mind that the others didn't pay attention to her. She wasn't an attention whore. She always did like to be left to her own devices. But she still yearned for camaraderie that she'd never have.

Mimi had been so nice to her. She was just a little lost kid, engulfed in the horrifying white of the hospital, and Mimi had taken her under her wing. They stayed up late into the night, Mimi talking and Winnie listening. Winnie was never much of a talker.

But now Mimi was dead…

Soon the funeral was over and she bolted out the door as fast as possible. She hated churches. They made her feel so nervous. Especially Catholic churches.

She sat down on the cold stone steps, freezing in her skirt. Mark had taken her to a second hand clothing shop to buy some black clothes for the funeral and all they could find was a thin, gauzy rayon skirt that provided no warmth. She was glad she'd worn Mark's coat. He was so nice, letting her keep it. She offered to pay for it since her blood now permanently stained it, but he refused.

Winnie curled up into a little ball, pulling her legs up to her chest and resting her chin on her knees. She rocked back and forth. It was starting to snow…

She just felt so sad. That was the second person she'd known that had died in the past two years. First Louis, now Mimi… She felt so alone. She searched through the coat's pocket to see if Mark's razor was still there. Empty… There was a broken bottle on the sidewalk.

She got up and crept down the stairs, picking up the largest piece she could find, examining it. Could she…? She shook her head and went to throw it down, but decided to pocket it. No one would let her near any razors or anything sharp for that matter. If this sadness kept up, she'd need _something_…

"Winnie?"

She turned to see Mark at the top of the stairs.

"Are you OK?"

Winnie shook her head and it was then she started to cry.

Mark descended the stairs and wrapped her in a warm hug, resting his chin on top of her head. "Shh, it's OK, everything will be fine."

Winnie said nothing, her hand gripping the shard of glass in her pocket so hard that it cut into her hand and she felt warm blood seeping out of fresh wounds. She pulled her hand out of her pocket and began sobbing harder.

"Geez, Winnie…" Mark pulled out his handkerchief and wrapped it around her hand. "C'mon, let's get home. I don't feel like going to a reception, do you?" Winnie shook her head. Mark offered her a comforting smile and escorted her home, his arm wrapped around her shoulders.

*          *          *

Back at the loft, Mark bandaged up Winnie's cut hand. She now had a bandage on each hand, although her right one was healing nicely.

"God, what in the world did you cut yourself on?"

"This," Winnie reached into her pocket and held out the shard of glass. She refused to look at him, looking instead at her feet.

Mark took the glass and threw it out the window. "Geez, Winnie. Be smart. You don't want to do something like that."

"How do you know what I want?"

Mark sighed in frustration. "Winnie, trust me. I know what this is like. You found the razor in my pocket! What do you think it was doing there, huh? You think it was there by accident? Fucking Christ, I've been thinking about offing myself for about as long as you've been in the city. And it's just not a good idea. People care about you. Look at what people go through when someone dies. Look at Mimi's funeral."

Winnie got up from the hard chair and curled up on the couch, resting her head on the armrest. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. "I kind of wondered why the razor was there. Nobody cares about me. I'm just little old Winnie, little nerdy Winnie, little punching bag Winnie, little wispy Winnie. I'm a burden to everyone. I'm not even paying part of the fucking rent, Mark. I feel like I'm worthless."

Mark knelt down in front of her, but she wouldn't open her eyes to look at him. "Winnie, people care. _I care. I know Maureen does too. You should've seen how worried she was that first night at the hospital. And Mimi loved you. She told me to tell you… To tell you not to hurt yourself, that she wants to live on through you."_

"But you barely know me!" Winnie's eyes burst open and she sat up, looking at him accusingly. "You don't know me! God, you'll end up abandoning me just like everyone else does."

"I won't!"

"You will!" Winnie began to cry again. "Ugh, I hate crying. Don't look at me when I cry, please… Louis always made me turn around when I cried around him…"

"Who's Louis?"

"He'd always say that crying is a weakness. No one should see you cry. You can see the person's soul when they cry, he said. If they can see your soul, they can get close to you and then if they get close to you, they can hurt you." She looked up at Mark with tear-stained eyes. "Please don't hurt me…"

"I'd never hurt you…" He wrapped his arms around her, pulling her to him, letting her cry on his shoulder. "Winnie, what makes you think I'll hurt you?"

Winnie shook her head. "I'm just being cynical. Louis always told me that to be cynical is to be invincible."

"Who's Louis?"

"He was so cynical. Questioned everything. I told him that I wanted to grow up to be just like him and he would tell me that he'd died before he saw that happen."

"Winnie," Mark grabbed her firmly by her shoulders and pulled her away from him slightly, so that it was almost impossible for her to look away. "Who's Louis?"

Winnie blinked, trying to avoid Mark's eyes. "Louis was my brother. He was always better at everything. He was a goddamn genius, athletic, handsome, popular. Every time I tried to emulate him, I failed miserably. God, I can't even kill myself the right way. He was so brave."

"I think you're brave. You've obviously put up with a lot of shit in your life. How could he be braver than you?"

"He cut deeper."

Mark's eyes widened. "Wait, cut _deeper_? You mean he…"

Winnie nodded. "He was so cryptic that day. He told me to get the hell out of there. To go away to Boston or New York or Baltimore. Not to ever go into that bathroom. But I just had to pee so badly that night that I couldn't hold it any longer. So I opened the door and he was there… He was in the tub but it wasn't filled with water. Just him and his blood. The next morning he got a letter saying he'd been accepted to Harvard. And the next day one came from Yale. And the next, from MIT."

She was shivering again and Mark pulled her up off the couch. "You look exhausted. You need some sleep." He led her to Collins' old room, _her_ room, and tucked her into bed. "Winnie, people do love you. No one's going to abandon you any more."

"I don't believe you," She shook her head. "I don't want to be alone right now. Will you stay with me?"

"Of course," He moved to sit into the old easy chair in the corner but Winnie shook her head.

"No, I need you to hold me…"

Mark obliged, climbing into bed under the covers, and held her to him. She shivered for a few minutes more, but was beginning to warm. Mark held her bandaged hands in his, warming them by massaging them gently so as not to hurt her. She cuddled up to him and fell asleep, finally peaceful. Mark stared across the pillow at her sleeping face. She didn't look so cold anymore, but she did have dark circles under her eyes still. He planted a kiss on her forehead before falling asleep himself, unaware that, outside the window, snow was beginning to fall.


	7. Chapter 06

I ask again for you to review. I got a few reviews for the last chapter and it made me happier. But there still could be more! Remember, reviews are the food of life. Thank you for reading.

Peace

-elodie

Wisp

Chapter 06

Maureen couldn't help noticing the overwhelming smell of cinnamon in the loft as she waited impatiently for Joanne to pick up her phone.

"Oh, that bitch, screening her goddamn ca-Oh hi Pookie! Baby, I just wanted to… What? Tonight? Pookie… Really, I think we should just put it all behind us. It was just a silly fight! Darling, I miss you… It's not a lie! Really, I-Pookie! I-I love you… Yes, I'm serious. Well, you heard what Mimi said… No, this isn't just because of her. I really do lo-Pookie? Are you still there? You what, Joanne? You-You love me too? Wait, Pookie, don't hang…up."

Winnie peaked in from the fire escape, her cinnamon-scented candle cradled in her hands. Maureen hadn't noticed her yet. She felt guilty for eavesdropping, but Maureen was just so goddamned loud, she couldn't help it. She smiled softly. It was an endearing quality with Maureen. Only Maureen.

"Hey Maureen, have you seen Winnie? Oh, there you are." Mark walking in the door. Maureen turned and saw Winnie peaking in from the fire escape.

"You were here the whole time and didn't say anything?"

"Winnie, you shouldn't be outside. You'll get sicker."

Winnie shrugged and climbed back in, one hand gripping her candle, the other holding the blanket around her shoulders. In the two weeks since the funeral, she'd succeeded in catching the flu. Her shivering never ceased, even though her forehead was burning up.

She didn't feel like talking much. Her throat was sore from coughing. She just smiled sadly at Maureen and let Mark pull her to the couch with him.

"What were you doing outside?" Mark asked her, taking the candle from her shaking hands and setting it on the table. Winnie shrugged.

"Just needed some fresh air," She croaked.

"But it's twenty degrees out there. You've always got chills anyway."

Maureen broke in, "Mark, just let her be. She's obviously exhausted."

Mark shot her a look. "C'mon Winnie. Let's get you to bed." He helped her up on her feet and led her down the hall. As he tucked her into bed she looked up at him with her big green eyes and asked,

"Mark? Tell me about your family." She grabbed his hand and pulled him down beside her.

"Well, what do you want to know?"

Winnie shrugged. "I dunno. I've told you lots about my family. What's yours like? How did they make you into Mark Cohen?"

"Haven't you already had this talk?" Mark joked softly. "Sorry, I had to say it. Well, my father left my mother when I was ten for another woman. My mother was always obnoxiously perky. I'm sure you've heard the phone messages." Winnie nodded sympathetically. "I have an older sister, Cindy. She was perfect. The golden child. I always thought she was a snob but my parents loved her. That is, until she got pregnant at eighteen. She ended up marrying the guy but he left her two and a half years ago."

"Men are scum."

"Excuse me?"

"You're not a man. You're a boy."

Mark smirked. "And what difference does it make?"

Winnie turned her head so she could face him. "Boys won't hurt me, men will."

"What about Collins and Roger?"

"They're boys at heart." Winnie smiled and snuggled to him. He was always warm when she was cold. "Mark, what about _you_? What were you like?"

Mark snorted. "I told you, I was a nerd. I didn't have much of a life. I locked myself up in my room playing with my camera. Then I'd sneak out and film random people on the street. My first commissioned film was by Nanette Himmelfarb, the rabbi's daughter. She wanted to make a film for her parents' anniversary. So she asked me," He smiled lightly. "She taught me to tango and gave me my first kiss."

"I've never been kissed," Winnie murmured. "Boys didn't pay much attention to me in high school. I was brainy, weird and quiet. All guys fall for that, huh?" She laughed softly.

Mark reached out and stroked her hair. "I do."

Winnie smiled and closed her eyes. "What did your parents think of you?"

"My mother worries about me and my father hates what I'm doing with my life. He nearly disinherited me when I dropped out of college."

"Mark?"

"Uh huh?"

"You never answered my question."

"What question?"

"I'd asked why you were carrying around that razor."

Mark froze. He'd avoided telling anyone. When Maureen demanded an answer, he was purposely vague. "I'm lost…"

Winnie said nothing. She just reached out and brushed a lock of his hair that had fallen in his eyes. She decided to just let him get it out on his own.

"I don't know what I'm going to do when Roger… When he's gone. I don't know how long it will be. But I think it's getting closer. He's been getting so weak and sick. I think he's just about got full-blown AIDS. And I'm scared. My whole life for the past three years has revolved around him. Taking care of him when he's sick, reminding him to take his AZT, cheering him up, dragging him out of the house. When he's gone… I don't know what I'll do. Collins doesn't have much longer, either. Collins has had full-blown AIDS for more than two years now. Maureen… She and I aren't as close any more. And Joanne and I were never close."

Winnie traced his face with her finger while he talked, from his hairline to his jawbone, to his nose, his chin.

"What are you doing?"

She ran her finger lightly over his lips. "Memorizing your face. My brother and I did this once. I can remember him so vividly. I never want to forget you."

"I won't give you the chance." He reached out and began tracing her face. He traced along her forehead where there were a few dents left from past stitches, along her tiny slightly crooked nose, along her hollowed cheeks, her chin, her lips. She closed her eyes and he gently touched her eyelids.

"Will you take my picture some time?" She asked him.

"Of course. Why?"

"I need to be remembered as beautiful. Make me look beautiful."

"You already are."

"You're just saying that."

"No, I'm not."

Winnie sighed, loving the feeling of his finger running along her skin. "Why are you so good to me?"

Mark whispered, "Because I care."

"But _why?"_

"Because you're just as lost as I am. I figure we can find our way out of the abyss together."

Winnie smiled. "That's a nice way to put it. You'll be my knight in shining armor and I'll be your damsel in distress."

"No, I'll be your damsel and you be my knight."

"Only if you wear a princess dress…"

Mark chuckled. "Maybe."

Winnie grasped his hand, holding it to her cheek, relishing the warmth. "You've only known me for three weeks."

"Roger had only known Mimi for a few hours."

"I always thought it was a gradual thing."

"It doesn't have to be."

Winnie felt his hands knead into her shoulders, working out all her tension. She noticed that she hadn't shivered in so long. "I think we've found a path home."

Mark felt her begin to relax even more. "It's a long one, but I see our castle on the horizon. Our yellow brick road leads us to the Emerald City."

"We'll have to slay a dragon."

"Jump over the moon."

"Defeat an evil witch."

"Swim across the moat."

"But we'll be home."

"And I'll wear my dress."

Winnie smirked. "I'll wear my suit of armor."

His hands traveled farther down her back, working out every sore muscle. It felt so good. Everything tingled. Her toes, her mouth, her nose… She shivered, but not from cold. Still, she felt his arms close around her tighter.

"I'm not cold," She whispered. "Just happy and tingly. That feels good. I haven't gotten a backrub for years."

Mark massaged a little bit firmer, but still tried to stay gentle. She felt so fragile beneath his touch. "I used to give Roger backrubs after he was out late with the band. He'd be so sore. But that hasn't been for a few years."

"The band?"

"Yeah, the Well Hungarians. They played in a lot of bars and clubs. They'd reached their pinnacle about the same time I got here. Then they got into heroin and everything went downhill. Promise me you'll never do stuff like that."

Winnie smiled cheekily. "Start a band?"

"No, silly," Mark smiled and began to comb back the wisps of hair from her face. She'd pulled it back in a long braid. He untied the ribbon and unbraided her long red hair slowly, combing it with his fingers.

Winnie reached up and removed his glasses, placing them on the small table next to her bed. "Would you like to…?"

Mark's eyes widened. 'Like to what?"

"Nap with me? I'm sleepy. You've worn me out."

Mark smiled at his misunderstanding. No, his hope. "I'd love to."

She cuddled even closer to him, wrapping her arms around his waist and burying her face in his neck

Mark silently contemplated the situation. God, he hadn't gotten laid for two years. It was killing him to lie there with her. He felt her sigh against his neck. He couldn't see her so well. Everything was blurry without his glasses, but right now, he didn't care.

"Mark?" She whispered.

"Yes, Miss Winnie?"

"I don't think it's quite as gradual as I thought."

Mark smiled as he felt her lips touch his neck softly and he tightened his hold around her.

_Follow the yellow brick road. We're off to see the wizard. To the __Emerald__City__. We need a heart, a brain, a little courage and a home. Look! There, through the poppies, what's that? It's the __Emerald__ _City___. We're here. But I feel so sleepy. The poppies…_


	8. Chapter 07

Well, brace yourself for an Author's Note! First off, I just have to explain something. If you know music relatively well, you can skip this. Roger's a musician, no? Therefore, he'd know all sorts of stuff about musical theory. Or at least, he should. I know some musicians teach themselves, but let's just say Roger wasn't one of them. In the first section, he's a bit delirious and is finding his rhythm. What I was attempting to describe was the neat way eighth notes and triplets fit together. What he does, I can't do. I just can't. It's really, _really hard to do. I've only seen two people who can do it and one can only do it on really good days. Also, an arpeggio is… Well, it kind of skips notes. I'm really bad at describing it. Just think of Pachelbel's Canon. All those notes that sort of skip. Eh, I can't explain…_

Also, to Kelby: I get what you were thinking, but you read too deep. ::grin:: I just wanted to kind of extend the Wizard of Oz metaphor to the end. Since the poppies sort of represent an obstacle since they fell asleep and everything. They were just getting somewhere with that whole deep intimate conversation and little Marky was hoping to get laid. (Sorry if I'm not being very eloquent. I'm quite tired) _However_, I am planning to write a story about Roger that uses the Wizard of Oz metaphor in the way you were thinking. I was thinking about it the other day and had the idea. So, when this is finished, that probably will be the next thing I write.

Anyway, musical geniuses and non-Kelbys can just skip my long-windedness and read on. Enjoy!

Peace

-elodie

Wisp

Chapter 07

First there were a few carefully picked notes, then a chord or two. And then a small melody. Carefully, expert, albeit rusty, fingers plucked at the strings. And then there came a more complicated melody, an arpeggio. It sounded familiar.

Pachelbel's Canon? Perhaps. There were a few missed notes and an angry sigh, more like a growl than a sigh, was heard.

Then it was no more. Just a dissonant stroke at all the strings and a thunk. The guitar had been carelessly tossed to the floor.

There was pacing. Back and forth, back and forth. The sound of shuffling bare feet on the cold floor.

Then there came a drumming sound, made with the palm of a hand against a table. It sounded simple. Thunk thunk thunk. It was slow. More like thunk. thunk. thunk. Then it stopped and another sound came. It was quicker. Thunk thunk thunk. Thunk thunk thunk. Triplets as opposed to eighth notes. Trip-le-et trip-l-et trip-le-et. Trip-le-et two and trip-le-et four and. It combined, alternating beats.

Then one hand began tapping out eighth notes. It did this several times before the other hand joined in with triplets. It sounded a mess and there was an angry growl. But it started again, more confident this time. Closed eyes, deep breath. One and two and three and four and. Then the triplets. And for the first time in so long, there were wonderful rhythms opposing each other, yet still fitting together. Thunk tha-thunk tha-thunk.

"Yes!"

The rhythm had come back. Everything he'd learned about music, all rushing back to him. A death had sucked it away but he was beginning to get it back.

His head spun. He felt it and it felt like he'd touched a hot iron. He needed to go lie down…

*          *          *

"Mark, is Maureen here?" Joanne entered the room, clutching the small pouch containing the key in her hand.

Mark shook his head, concentration on the leg in front of him. "Nope. She came here looking for you about an hour ago."

Joanne stepped closed, squinting at the sight. "What are you doing?"

Winnie was sitting on the table, her skirt hitched up to her thighs with her legs coated in white foam.

"I'm shaving Winnie's legs for her." Mark ran the razor gently down her leg so as not to cut her, then dipped it in the cold water he'd let sit in the sink.

Joanne nodded, drifting over to the window to see if Maureen was on the street. "We've been playing phone tag for the last few days, Maureen and I. And I haven't been able to catch her and was hoping she was here."

"I think she might have gone to the Life Café to look for you," Winnie piped up, pulling the blanket tighter around her shoulders. "I heard that phone conversation you two had two weeks ago."

Joanne turned to look at her in surprise. "You did?"

Winnie shrugged. "Well, just Maureen's side. Can't help but hear her. You said you loved her."

"I do."

"How come you can't just get along?"

Joanne sighed and sank onto the couch. "Long story."

"I've got time."

"Maureen and I," Joanne began, "Well, we're different. She's very outgoing and unpredictable and well, a bit unapologetic. And I'm, well… You know, I'm reserved and organized and when I take drastic measures, I thoroughly research them first. Our personalities clash. She's so…alluring and I'm just plain old me. I'm surprised she's even attracted to me in the first place."

Winnie accepted the towel Mark held out to her and wiped down her leg, drying all the excess water off. "Before she called you, she was talking to herself about you. She was creating a pros and cons list. But she'd said to herself that there were too many pros to count."

Joanne stared at Winnie before smiling warmly. "You're an angel, Miss Winnie."

"No I'm not." She broke out into a grin. "I'm a knight in rusty armor." She grinned at Mark.

"I take it that it's an in-joke with you two."

Winnie nodded vigorously. "I'm his knight and he's my damsel. We're following the yellow brick road to get to our castle at the Emerald City."

"I promised her that I'd wear a princess dress," Mark added, rubbing down her other leg. "You're finished, Miss Winnie."

"Thanks Mark. I'm going to go take a nap. Joanne, good luck with Maureen. I think it will work out," Winnie said quietly, shooting her a shy grin. "Mark, are you coming with me?"

Mark nodded. "Yep, in a minute."

Joanne rained an eyebrow as soon as she'd disappeared from the room. "Going with her?"

Mark shrugged. "Well, she doesn't like to sleep alone. She gets scared and lonely. So I keep her company."

"Is that all?"

"Well, we talk a lot. Deep life conversations, you know?"

Joanne nodded. "I see. She seems like a great kid, Mark."

"She is," Mark agreed. "Really fucked up, but a great kid. Kind of like me, right?" He smiled at her cheekily.

"Go take a nap," She said, waving him towards the bedroom. "I guess I'll just go see if Maureen's at the Life."

"Why would I be there?"

"Hey Maureen," Mark said. "Good luck Joanne," He gave her a reassuring smile before leaving to join Winnie.

Joanne stuttered a bit at first, both of them feeling a bit awkward. "Maureen, I'm sorry we haven't been able to talk until now. I was trying to…collect my thoughts, I guess you could say."

Maureen stepped forward and without another word, kissed her soundly on the lips. "Pookie, let's never argue again."

"That sounds nice…" Joanne managed to get out between kisses. Feeling Maureen's hand traveling up her shirt, she pushed away. "Wait, Mark and Winnie are in the next room…"

"Let's go to my place."

"What's going on?"

They looked up to see Roger stumbling out of his bedroom, obviously just been woken up.

"Honey, you don't look so good…" Maureen helped him over to the couch and steadied him as he collapsed onto it. "Joanne, what do you think?"

Joanne felt his forehead. "Roger, you've had this fever forever. I think you should go. If you aren't getting better, that's a sign that there's something seriously _wrong."_

Roger shook his head. "No," He sucked in another breath. "Hospital… I just want to," Another breath. "Stay here…"

"We're getting you to the hospital and that's final," Maureen said firmly. "Joanne, you go tell Mark and Winnie. I'll call us a cab. Roger, just wait there. Don't move."

*          *          *

"February 3rd, three PM, Eastern Standard Time. Zoom in on the waiting room, filled with anxious and worried souls."

Winnie sat in the chair next to him. She'd brought her blanket and was shivering violently. "I hate hospitals," She murmured. "They give me the creeps."

Joanne nodded in agreement. "Too many bad memories."

Winnie pulled at Mark's sleeve. "Mark, can we go walk outside? Please? I hate it in here."

"But you'll catch cold."

"I have a warm blanket."

Mark sighed but took her hand and led her out. They walked outside the hospital by the sidewalks, Mark watching all the people through his camera lens. Sitting down on a bench, Winnie immediately snuggled against him, instantly cold.

"Are you sure you don't want to go back inside?"

"I hate hospitals." Winnie bit her lip before asking Mark tentatively, "Do you think he'll be OK?"

Mark shrugged, slipping an arm across her back. "I don't know. I wish I did. He's getting weaker, Winnie."

She shrugged off some of her blanket and wrapped it around his shoulders. "He's in pain."

"I know…"

"He could make it."

"He might."

"But then there will be more times like this."

"There will," Winnie stared into Mark's face, her own face neutral. She looked neither sad, nor worried, just cold.

Mark's eyes were wet. "Winnie, I'm torn."

"I know."

She gently pulled his head down so he could lean on her shoulder as he began to cry. It had been years since he'd cried on someone's shoulder and it felt refreshing. But inside he was dying.

The same was with Roger. Mark had to face it. His best friend was dying. He was weak and sick and had been for weeks. If he got better, death would still be an inevitability. If he survived, there'd be more weakening colds or flu's or some other disease or virus, each time battering his body worse.

Winnie stroked his hair. She didn't want to say anything. He was realizing it on his own. She didn't want him to get mad at her if she said anything about Roger. She just pulled the blanket tighter around them and let him cry on her shoulder.

*          *          *

He was still awake, but barely. Everything swirled around him and voices sounded distant. It was almost as if he was underwater.

Attempting to suck in air was difficult. It really felt like he was drowning.

Everything was so woozy… There was no pain, but yet everything ached. Every breath burned, but he felt no heat. Every slight move screamed, but he heard no sound.

Somewhere, in a very distant place, he heard the oceans crash, but he felt no spray, smelled no salt.

Everything was white and oh so bright. But somewhere… Somewhere, he smelled something. What was it? Nutmeg? Ginger? No, cinnamon…


	9. Chapter 08

Wisp

Chapter 08

"If you ask me one more time how I'm feeling, I'll fucking smack you," Roger grumbled, glaring at Mark from his hospital bed.

Mark shrugged. "Sorry. I'm just worried."

"Don't. I hate it when people are worried. For the last time, I feel like shit, but what's new?"

Mark glanced down at his folded hands, uncertain of what to say. Roger was stabilized. He'd had pneumonia and probably would have died if Maureen and Joanne hadn't forced him to go to the hospital. Mark felt guilty. It was usually his job to take care of Roger. But he'd been so busy taking care of Winnie lately…

"Talk to me, Mark. I'm so sick of everything revolving around medicine and disease and _hospitals," Roger spat. "Tell me what you've been up to. You don't visit as much as you usually do."_

"I'm sorry."

"I'm not mad. Where have you been? What have you been doing?"

Mark shrugged. "I dunno. Taking care of Winnie, mostly."

Roger nodded, rolling his eyes playfully. "Ah, Winnie. I hear from Maureen that you're sleeping together."

"It's not like that!" Mark protested.

"Sure, sure."

Mark explained, "I mean, yes we do sleep together. But that's all we do: sleep. She gets scared being alone at night."

"Little Marky hasn't tried anything yet?"

Mark shook his head. "Too scared. She'll probably reject me. Most girls do."

"Maureen didn't." Mark shot Roger a look. "Well, for awhile she didn't. I mean the only reason she left you was because she didn't like men anymore. So it might not have been _you, per se. It was just your genitals."_

Mark snorted. "Don't be crude. The nurses could hear you."

Roger grinned. "You look at her funny. Like you respect her, but still want to fuck her brains out at any chance you could get."

"Roger-"

"Admit it!"

"Fine…" Mark sighed. "I like her a lot. She means a lot to me. She depends on me. I mean, you sort of did for a while, but then you and Mimi had each other to lean on and I was just watching from the sidelines again. Now I have someone to lean against."

It was true. Mark leaned on her just as much as she leaned on him. She comforted him and dried his tears as he calmed her shivers and warmed her shaking fingers. He took her for walks in the park; she gave him a subject to photograph and film. He nearly had a whole photo album of just pictures of her. Winnie at sunset, Winnie at sunrise, Winnie in the park, Winnie in her bed, Winnie on the couch, Winnie cooking dinner, Winnie at the Life Café, Winnie at the beach.

His favorite was a picture he'd taken on the Staten Island ferry. The sun was beginning to set, the reddish light perfectly lighting up her red hair. She was leaning over the railing, but had turned back to look at him and was smiling broadly. The corners of her eyes crinkled, her dimples prominent, her green eyes sparkling with happiness. It was one of the only times she had truly smiled like that and Mark was so glad that he'd caught it on film.

He hadn't shown it to her yet. He was going to frame it and give it to her for Valentine's Day.

"Mark?"

"Yeah?"

"I miss Mimi."

"We all do."

"Not as much as me."

Mark sat on the edge of Roger's bed and grabbed his hand, squeezing it lightly. "I know you do, Rog. But you can't give up."

"Did I say I was giving up?"

"Well, it just sounded like it."

Roger yanked his hand out of Roger's grasp. "Have some faith, man. Hey, I need some rest. Go fuck your little girlfriend."

"She's not my-"

"Bye Mark." Roger gave him a shove towards the door. "Thanks for visiting."

"Hey, no prob."

"Good luck, stud." Roger winked.

Mark couldn't help but blush.

*          *          *

"I love sunsets," Winnie murmured, gazing out over the lake. The water sparkled with red light like rubies, and the air was alive with all the beautiful colors of a sunset.

Mark agreed, "I do too."

"What did you and Roger talk about today?"

"Well, you, actually."

Winnie turned to him, eyebrows raised. "Oh really? Good things I hope."

"Of course."

She smiled cheekily. "What specifically?"

Mark shrugged. "Oh, um, nothing big."

"So I'm just nothing big?"

"Well, taken literally, you are."

Winnie playfully shoved him. "You know what I mean. I want to know what you say about me when I'm not around."

"Well," Mark began, "Roger wants us to fuck and get it over with. And those are Roger's words, not mine. Just for the record."

Winnie laughed and lay back on the grass, looking up at the sky. "Roger's got an overactive imagination."

Mark lay back next to her. "And what is so overactive about it?"

"Well, he's imagining us having sex, for one. He's also imagining that I would have sex just to get it over with. I'd never do that."

"Morals?"

"Fear."

"Ah."

Winnie propped herself up on one elbow and smiled at Mark, her eyes sparkling mischievously. "How long's it been?"

Mark turned towards her, his head shaking in mock disgust. "You sick, dirty person. Well, let's see… Maureen dumped me in November of '95. And it's February of '98. So, two years and three months."

"Geez, no wonder you're so sexually repressed."

"Is it that obvious?"

"As obvious as you are blond."

Mark laughed. "Well, what about you? As if you're not sexually repressed."

Winnie shrugged. "I never said I wasn't."

"Have you ever?"

Winnie shook her head. "I told you I've never been kissed before. You think I fucked a guy but wouldn't let him kiss me? Nah, I was a nerd not a heartbreaker."

"You could be both. It makes it all the more pathetic, but possible."

"I know the type." Winnie giggled and began absently-mindedly braiding a small strand of her hair.

"I always liked nerds."

Winnie agreed. "As have I."

Mark leaned in closer to her, combing his fingers through her long hair. "Is Roger's imagination really that overactive?"

Winnie, startled by the serious look in his eyes, stuttered, "I don't know…"

"Winnie, would you mind if I kissed you?"

Their faces were so close that they could feel each other's breath. Winnie began trembling again. "No. Yes." She said quickly, pulling herself away from him.

Mark sighed and leaned back on his elbows. "Well, which is it?"

Winnie said quietly, "Yes because I want to, no because I can't."

"You can't?"

"Well, I was really happy the way things were between us. I was close to you, but not too close. I wasn't attached. We weren't official. We were just friends that protected each other. Louis always told me not to get attached." Winnie was shivering wildly. She suddenly realized how cold it was.

Mark had had enough. "Winnie, your brother's dead. He was obviously an idiot. How can you live your life like that? Not getting attached, not letting anyone see you cry. How do you think you'll ever be _happy_? And if you tell me that you are happy, I know you're lying. I mean _truly happy. Like so happy that your heart feels like bursting, so happy that your head feels light, that you feel like you're floating."_

Winnie's face crumpled. She curled herself up in a little ball and began rocking back and forth. She'd always listened to her brother. He'd been her rock when there was no one else. And then he left her. He left her no consolation, no note, no words of encouragement for the future. He hadn't cared about her. She'd loved him so much and then he abandons her.

She'd broken his rules. Never love anyone, but God, did she love him… He was more than a brother to her. He was a mother, a father, a best friend, a god. But he'd viewed her as just another person in the way to true happiness: nothingness.

Everything was so pent up inside of her. She had to scream. She had to beat someone senseless. She had to cry, she had to shout, she had to let it all out. "I hate him! I hate you!" She screamed as loudly as possible. "Stop it, _stop_…" She began to sob.

Mark was startled by her outburst. He reached out to gather her in a hug, but she pushed him away. "Winnie, I'm sorry."

"Don't touch me!" She hissed. "I _hate_ you. I hate everything."

"Winnie, I didn't mean-"

"Shut up!" She began sobbing harder, pressing her nose against her knee so hard. "He abandoned me…" She said, a bit sobered. "He left me alone. He knew I wasn't as brave as he was, but he still left me."

Mark reached out a hand, lightly touching her shoulder. She stiffened at first, but didn't push him away. "Winnie, I don't think he was brave at all. He couldn't hack it. _You can. You're still here aren't you?"_

"Only because you and Maureen intervened," Winnie hiccupped. Still crying, she lifted her face up to look at him. "I still tried."

"But you haven't tried since."

"I'm not allowed near sharp objects."

"If you tried hard enough, you could find something sharp enough. I think you're strong enough to know that it's the stupidest thing you could ever do."

Winnie collapsed against him, sobbing against his chest. "I'm so stupid, Mark…I don't really hate you. I'm so sorry, Mark. God, I'm so stupid…"

Mark wrapped his arms around her tight. "No, you're not. You're angry. You have a right to express your feelings. At that moment, you hated me because I was blunt and told you that your precious brother was not as godlike as you thought. That's some messed up shit he told you."

"I know that now," Winnie murmured. "Mark, I want to go back home."

"To the loft? Sure."

"No," Winnie wiped her eyes on the sleeve of her jacket. "_Home_, home. To Gloucester. I want to go to his grave. I need to see it and make my final peace. I want to visit my mother. I want to put my fears behind me and stop living life in fear. Would you take me?"

Mark readily agreed. "Of course."

Winnie had stopped crying but didn't pull out of Mark's embrace immediately. When she did, she didn't move away. She pressed her face up close to his and whispered, "Mark, will you kiss me? I'm not afraid anymore."

Mark inched his face even closer. "Are you sure?"

Winnie nodded.

Mark slowly pressed his lips against her. They tasted so sweet, her lips did. Like cinnamon.

It was a sweet innocent kiss, not the most passionate that Mark had engaged in, but that was their relationship to this point. Completely innocent and sweet.

But after they'd pulled apart, Mark ached to kiss her again. He did so, but deeper and more passionate this time. His heart fluttered and swelled.

Winnie had never felt so happy. Her first kiss and it was with a wonderful, sweet, intelligent, compassionate guy. Her head felt light, she felt as if she were flying. She recalled what Mark had said before about being _truly happy and relaxed everywhere. She melted into him, her lips pressed firmly against his, their mouths open and searching, probing, frantically almost._

She shivered as his hands ran down her sides, resting on the small of her back, pulling her into his lap. She ran her gloved fingers through his hair, messing it up further, but neither of them cared at the moment.

Slowly, reluctantly, they pulled apart, a bit more flushed and out of breath than they'd been before.

"Do you know that I love you?" Mark whispered, planting a kiss on her button nose.

Winnie nodded, leaning her forehead up against his, closing her eyes. "I do. I… I love you too. I love you, Mark Cohen. You're the first person I've ever _really loved. I never want to live without you."_

"You won't have to."

Winnie opened her eyes and kissed his nose playfully. "Mark, let's go back to the loft."

"Are you cold?"

"In a way, yes."

"What do you mean 'in a way'?"

Winnie smiled shyly. "Let's go home, Mark. The sun's already down. It's going to get dark."


	10. Chapter 09

Guess what? There's _sex! It's not graphic. Just a warning. I mean, it's described and all, but __pretty vaguely. Or, at least I hope so. So, tell me if you think the rating should be upper or anything. I personally don't think that this merits an R, but I'll let the faithful readers decide. Enjoy!_

Peace

-elodie

Wisp

Chapter 09

The room was completely dark, save for the tiny cinnamon-scented candle on the table next to the bed. Winnie could feel Mark's soft breath against her forehead, his arms around her bare shoulders.

How had she ended up like this? She still couldn't believe it. Everything made her so happy. So _this is what Mark meant when he said that true happiness was like floating. Her head felt so light she was worried she'd float right up to ceiling._

After that kiss in the park, they'd gone back to the loft, pausing only to kiss on the sidewalks, not caring that the people bustling around them saw.

Getting up the stairs had proven to be a task. Winnie already had to stand on tiptoes to kiss him and standing on tiptoes with lips pressed against his while trying to lift one foot up after the other had been too much and she'd nearly tripped and fallen down the stairs. Luckily, Mark had been there to catch her. Her hero, her knight, her princess.

And then they'd ended up in her bed, naked and writhing together. His lips had traced paths down her body, down her neck, in between her breasts, down her stomach and then up again. He'd kissed her scarred knees and her tender, scarred wrists. He'd planted a series of butterfly kisses along her shoulders. This had made her shiver, but he knew that she wasn't cold.

And then they were one, moving together in such a beautiful passion. Winnie wished she could have seen it from an outsider's point of view, but then blushed immediately after. What a voyeuristic thought…

It hurt a bit, but she was so delirious that she barely felt it. All she saw were Mark's soft blue eyes, staring right into hers. She never imagined it could be this wonderful…

A gasp, a whimper, soft kisses, back and forth they moved. Winnie's back arched against the soft sheets of the bed, chests pressed together, hips pressed together. Her lips were against his ear, kissing it softly, pausing only to gasp in perverse pleasure.

After they'd collapsed together in an exhausted heap, sticky with sweat, they'd stayed awake for hours, just talking, wrapped in each other's arms.

"I didn't hurt you, did I?" Mark asked tentatively, smoothing Winnie's hair against the pillow.

Winnie shrugged. "It hurt, but I barely felt it. I didn't care. It was worth it."

"I love you."

Winnie could hear the exhaustion in his voice and knew that he was fading fast. "I love you too," She murmured. "Mark, about going home… Do you think we can go in the spring? When all the flowers bloom? My mother always had a pretty flower garden."

"Of course," He kissed her again, lingering for just a few seconds. "Winnie, are you happy with me? I mean, _really happy."_

Winnie snuggled her head into the crook of his neck. "You're perfect. Never change. I'm so happy that I can't think straight. Are you happy with me?"

"So happy that I can barely move." And then he'd drifted to sleep.

Winnie couldn't sleep. She had to contemplate what she'd done. Did she regret it? No. Was she overwhelmed? A bit, yes.

He was going to take her home. It would be hell. She was so glad she didn't have to go alone. She was so afraid of how her father would react. But she _needed to go back. She needed closure._

God, it had gotten so bad after Louis had died. No time was sacred. She often was sent off to school with a fresh bruise forming somewhere on her body. Usually not her face, but someplace where she'd certainly feel it later. He scared her so much… But she'd have Mark to protect her.

She shook her head. Now was not the time to think of this. This was such a happy moment; she didn't want to spoil it.

She leaned over and blew out the candle softly, then snuggled back against Mark. She drifted off to sleep easily, sighing against his chest. Such a wonderful night…

*          *          *

"You look funny."

"Gee, thanks Roger."

"No, seriously. You look…goofy, almost."

Mark tried to suppress his grin. He was supposed to be grim. He was supposed to be serious. Roger was sick. Mark was supposed to be worried. "So, don't you always think I look goofy?"

Roger squinted at him. "Yeah, but this time it's different… You're relaxed. You were so tense yesterday, I could tell. You got laid, didn't you?"

"Roger!"

"You did!" Roger began laughing almost hysterically. "I knew it. Little Marky got laid."

Mark scowled. "Well, it's not like it was the first time. What's the big deal?"

"It's nearly the first time, it's been so long."

"Oh yeah? Well, what about you? How many months it been for you, huh?"

Roger's face darkened. "Shut up."

"Oh yeah…" Mark sobered. "Sorry."

Roger snapped at him, "Don't apologize. I hate when you apologize."

"But you get mad when I don't!"

"Well, when you go around saying that you're sorry all the time, you come off as pathetic."

Mark scoffed. "Glad to know that that's what you think of me. Let's not fight now. I'm in too good of a mood to deal with this."

"Well excuse me, Mary Sunshine." Roger crossed his arms across his chest and stared straight ahead at the wall.

Mark sighed. Another stupid move… "Roger." No response. "Roger, don't pout. C'mon, let me be happy for once. I haven't felt like this in so long and you know it. God, I've been so busy taking care of you for the last two and a half years, I haven't had time for _myself_. I need some Mark time!"

Roger turned his head towards Mark slowly and stared at him, his eyebrows raised high. Then he burst out laughing. He couldn't stop, he just laughed and laughed. Mark stared at him wide-eyed.

"Roger?" He asked. "Are you OK?"

Roger nodded, attempting to stifle his laughter. "You said… You said 'Mark time'!"

"So?"

"I haven't heard you use that phrase since… Well, for five years at least. Thank you for that, Mark. You've made my day."

Mark smiled widely. "I'm glad."

Roger sobered and gave his friend a sad shrug. "Hey man, sorry about, well, y'know… I'm being a little selfish, I guess. It's just… Well, you don't seem to have enough time for me anymore."

"I visit everyday."

"Yeah, but you don't stay as long and… God, I sound stupid, don't I?"

Mark nodded. "Yeah, just a little."

Roger shrugged, the corner of his mouth turning up slightly. "I'm so used to you not having a life. I'm not used to sharing you. It's been _so long."_

Mark rolled his eyes. "Let's not start this again…"

They were silent for a few minutes before Roger spoke up again. "Mark?"

"Yeah?"

"Do you love her?"

Mark nodded. "Yeah. Yeah, I do."

"And she loves you?"

"Well, she says she does. And I believe her."

Roger smiled slowly. "Well, good for you, stud. Hey, you actually listened to me for once! I told you to go home and fuck your little girlfriend and you did. Huh, what do you know…"

"Roger!"

*          *          *

"I got us the train tickets."

"Train tickets?"

"Yeah, to Gloucester."

They lay together in Winnie's bed, clothes lying on the floor by the door. The only light in the room was the cinnamon-scented candle. It was almost completely burned down.

"For when?" Mark asked, nuzzling her ear.

"The first weekend in May. Is that alright for you?"

"Of course."

Winnie kissed his neck gently. "I'm afraid," She murmured.

"Of your father?"

She nodded. "He won't be happy."

"I'll protect you."

"He's scary. Big. Much taller than you are." Winnie shivered. "God, he scared me so much."

Mark tightened his grip around her. "It's not like I'm tiny. Not like you. God, you're so fragile. I can't even begin to imagine what it was like."

"You don't want to," Winnie said softly. She rested her cheek against his bare chest and kissed it softly. "I called my aunt this afternoon."

"I didn't know you had an aunt."

"Yeah, my Aunt Lilia. I liked her a lot. She was always kind to me. Detached, but kind. Sometimes she'd take me into the city with her. God, I loved Boston. Best city in the world. Even beats New York. She even took me to a protest on the Boston Commons once. She was an old hippie, you see and had protested a lot back then. She doesn't do that anymore. She and her partner retired to Cape Cod."

"Cape Cod?"

Winnie nodded. "Yeah, great place. Well, I've actually never seen it, but I've heard it's great. The beaches, the people. It's very historic. They live in a townhouse in Provincetown. She invited us to spend a week with her. I told her maybe. I wanted to check with you first."

"Gosh, I've never even considered this. But it sounds great. Like a nice escape. Do you think that maybe we could bring Roger?"

Winnie smiled broadly. "Oh, he'd love it there. There's so much culture in P-Town. Lots of art galleries and clubs. You know what it really is, don't you? That it's basically a gay community? Well, not entirely. But it's their Mecca. That's why my aunt moved there." Winnie snorted. "She says that girl's get discounts on dykewear in certain stores."

"Dykewear?"

Winnie laughed. "Beats me. Those were her words, not mine. Do you think Collins would want to go? I know Maureen would. We could make a trip of it."

"We'll see," Mark said, burying his face in her hair. "I love you."

"I love you more."

"No, I do."

"_I do."_

"How long are you planning to stay in Gloucester?"

"Hopefully just that one night," Winnie murmured. "And I'm _not_ staying at home. We'll just get a dingy hotel room. Do you mind?"

Mark snorted softly in her ear. "A dingy hotel room's better than the loft."

"But the loft's _home. It's warm, inviting. Well, the atmosphere, not that actual temperature, I mean. Tell me truthfully that you'd be able to leave it easily."_

Mark shook his head. "Honestly, I couldn't. Not easily, that is. But I think there will come a day when I'll be able to. Where do you see yourself wanting to live?"

Winnie sighed contentedly. "Well, from what I hear about Cape Cod, it sounds perfect. I'd like to have a house near the beach and a dog. Not a little dog, but a nice slobbery St. Bernard. And I want to have a few kids and a cat or two."

"That sounds perfect. Expensive, but perfect."

Winnie grinned at him. "Oh, but by then you'll be a famous filmmaker and make lots of money. Not that it matters. What matters is that you'll live out your dream."

Mark sighed. "Yeah, dreams… When you were a kid, what did you want to be when you grew up?"

"A writer."

"You write? I never knew that."

"God, yes. I filled up so many diaries filled with every little thought of mine. That's another thing I want to do, collect my diaries and old notebooks. I wrote a lot of poetry, but my real strength was prose. I love language."

"Do you… Do you think I could read your diary sometime?" Mark asked tentatively.

Winnie pulled back to look at him. "I… I dunno. Maybe. It's kind of private…"

"How come I've never seen you writing around here?"

Winnie shrugged. She was getting cold again. She pulled the covers tighter around her and cuddled in close to Mark. "Well, I didn't exactly have anything to write with when I was on the streets and I guess I just kind of got used to it. I kind of want to write it all down again. About you and me, well, y'know…" She blushed, and closed her eyes. "It just feels so good to write it all down."

"I agree." Mark could feel her steady breathing against his neck and smiled. She was already asleep. He leaned over her gently and blew the candle out, leaving the room immersed in darkness.


	11. Chapter 10

Just wanted to pause to thank the wonderful reviewers. You make my day every time you review. It keeps me going. It's fuel. I'm having a bit of a rough week and my savior has been the hours that I spend writing this. It keeps me sane.

Peace

-elodie

Wisp

Chapter 10

It was about noon when they stood in front of a rundown house. Mark reached to ring the doorbell, but Winnie shook her head.

"That broke years ago. I'll knock." She tentatively reached her hand up to knock on the door, but hesitated, looking to Mark for reassurance. He nodded her on, squeezing her hand. She sighed and knocked on the door. Three sharp raps.

"I'm coming!" A female voice called from inside. The door swung open and a tiny woman with auburn hair and freckles stood in the doorway, her mouth agape. "_Winnie?"_

Winnie smiled slightly, her stomach flip-flopping. "Um, h-hi Ma," She laughed nervously. "Did you miss me?"

The woman grabbed her in a huge hug, rocking her back and forth. "Winnie, I can't believe it's you. Winnie, Winnie, Winnie… Oh, my baby girl, sweetheart, I've missed you so much."

"I've missed you too," Winnie whispered quietly, gently pulling out of her mother's grasp. She grabbed Mark's hand again. He noticed that she was starting to shiver again. "Ma, this is my boyfriend, Mark. Mark, this is my mother."

Mark held out his hand to shake, "It's nice to meet you, Mrs. Wielkopolski."

"Pleasure," She said quietly. "Honey, I don't know if this is such a good time." Mrs. Wielkopolski glanced back inside the house nervously. "I don't know how happy your father will be to see you…"

Winnie placed her hand on her mother's shoulder to calm her. Her mother was shivering, just like Winnie always did. "I-I just came to see you. I figured that since I'm eighteen, I'm old enough to face everything and… Well," She glanced back up at Mark and smiled. "I wanted you to meet Mark."

"Helen, who's at the door?" Winnie cringed and gripped Mark's hand tightly. "Oh, it's you." A towering man appeared next to her mother in the doorway. "What the fuck are you doing back here? You fucking left, you little slut. We're not good enough for you, remember?"

Mark could feel Winnie stiffen and freeze. "H-Hi Dad…"

"Gary, don't yell, please… The neighbors will hear."

"Well, Helen," He spat out her name. "Invite them in, why don't you. God, you're so stupid. You don't leave _guests_ out on the steps."

"Sorry Gary," Mrs. Wielkopolski mumbled. "Winnie, Mark, do come in."

Winnie was shaking so hard as she led Mark in the house, following her mother. Her father had opened a beer can and took a loud slurp.

"So, who's your little boyfriend, slut?"

"Dad, don't…" Winnie said softly.

"Nah, I wanna know. I want to know who's fucking my only daughter. What're you with this geek for? Drugs? Money? Don't tell me you're a fucking prostitute."

"Please…" Winnie whimpered. She felt like she was going to cry. "Leave him out of this."

Mark broke in. "Mr. Wielkopolski, I know this really isn't my business-"

"You're damned right it isn't! Shut your fucking mouth, you little punk."

 "Please, Winnie just wanted to visit. You're her family."

"She's no daughter of mine."

Winnie was crying now, desperately trying to hide her face. "Dad, stop!"

Mr. Wielkopolski looked as if he was going to start crying too, but the way he was swaying just showed that he was drunk. "No! You left. We weren't fucking good enough for you. You left!"

"Dad!"

"Shut up!" He raised his hand to hit her, but Mark stepped in front of him and blocked his fist.

"There's no need to use violence, Mr. Wielkopolski. Especially against your own daughter. From what I heard, that's _exactly_ the reason she left." He was getting a bit nervous. This guy was huge…

Mr. Wielkopolski shook off Mark's hand. "Fuck off. This is _my_ daughter; I'll do what I want with her."

Winnie gazed up at her father with her big green eyes and grabbed Mark's hand for reassurance. "Good bye Dad," She whispered, tears in her eyes. "Mark, let's go." They began to walk towards the door.

"Honey!" Mrs. Wielkopolski ran after them. She said to them in a low voice, "Come back tonight at about eight. Your father goes off to the bar. It's been so nice seeing you." She wrapped Winnie in a big hug.

Winnie smiled sadly and kissed her cheek. "Thanks, Ma. I'll see you tonight."

As the door closed behind them, Mark grabbed Winnie and pulled her to him tight. "Winnie…" The tears overflowed and she sobbed into Mark's shirt as he led her away. "Let's go back to the hotel. You look like you could use a nap."

*          *          *

"Can we go to the cemetery now?" Winnie asked Mark. She yawned and stretched, rubbing her cheek against his sweater-clad chest.

Mark yawned too, prompting a small laugh from Winnie. "Anytime you want."

"I want to go now. What time is it?"

"Four."

"Ok, so we have four hours until we go see my mother. I want to go now and get this over with."

The cemetery was in walking distance from the hotel. Winnie shivered in the brisk Atlantic wind, still chilly from winter but without the usual bite. Wildflowers had sprouted. Winnie grabbed a handful and clutched them so tightly in her hand that Mark was surprised they didn't burst.

In a small section of the crowded cemetery, a small stone set into the ground read _Louis Oliver Wielkopolski, 1978-1997._

Winnie kneeled down in front of it, placing the flowers over the name. The wind was starting to really pick up, blowing her long hair out behind her. Mark wished he had his camera; it was such a moving sight.

"I hate you, Louis," She murmured. "I really do. I can't not love you but I can't not hate you. You caused me so much pain and suffering when all you were thinking about was yourself." Winnie was beginning to cry. Mark ached to wrap her in a hug, but the perverse observer inside of him made him stay back and watched what unfolded before him.

"Louis, I almost made the same mistake you had; only there was no one there to cry over me. I was so alone. But then someone saved me. Louis, this is Mark. Mark saved me. He saved me when I couldn't save you. You were too far gone that even if I tried, you'd have just done it again. Damn it, Louis! I was seventeen years old, afraid, lonely… But you chose to _leave_ me? Do you leave a suicidal person by their self in a butcher shop? A claustrophobic person in a closet? You don't leave your lonely little sister that _hero-worshipped you alone._

"I always thought that you were the brave one. You always rebelled against Dad even when it meant getting beaten up twice as hard. You stood up for me sometimes, too. Remember that? Remember the love and adoration that shone in my eyes? God, I thought you were so brave. You were my hero. You never let anyone talk shit to you, you had all those nice girlfriends, your grades were insane, you cut longer, deeper lines. I was such a failure compared to you."

Winnie began openly sobbing. She hated him so much then. She just wanted to beat the ground with her fists. Her palms stung as she pounded at the stone, hunched over, her long hair hanging in her face. She hated him, she hated him, oh how she hated him… "I hate you," She sobbed, her hands covering her face.

She felt a surge of anger and repulsion. She tore her hands away from her face and held her face directly over the stone. "Look at me, Louis! I'm _crying_! I'm crying and people can _see_ me. Guess I'm weak, huh? Look at my eyes! See the red? See my wet cheeks? It's called _emotion_, Louis and it's part of being human. Humans aren't perfect. You might have thought yourself a god, and lord knows I did too, but guess what? You weren't. You weren't perfect. Emotion isn't perfect. But emotion is part of being _alive. Guess that's why you prefer to be dead." She started crying harder, hugging her arms around her. "Mark," She whimpered, turning towards him._

Mark helped Winnie to her feet and wrapped her in a hug. "You did good, kid."

"Mark?" She asked as they walked together out of the cemetery.

"Yeah?"

"I'm hungry."

"Let's go get lunch."

*          *          *

"May 2nd, Eight thirty PM, Eastern Standard Time. A mother and daughter reunited. Pan left on the photos on the wall. And chuckle at the picture of Winnie with glasses and braces," Mark murmured to himself, kicking himself for leaving his camera back in New York.

Winnie and Mrs. Wielkopolski sat on the old overstuffed couch underneath the window, chatting and smiling. Mark was overjoyed to see Winnie smiling like that. She'd been so tense and stressed about this trip that she hadn't been herself for weeks.

But then Mrs. Wielkopolski asked Winnie the question that made both she and Mark freeze. "So, how did you two meet?"

Winnie chewed her lip nervously, looking up at Mark. He sat next to her and grasped her hand, urging her on. "Well, Ma… You're going to hate me for this, but… Well, I had been living on the streets for a few months, I'd gotten beat up and mugged, I was so cold. And then I met Mark at this café that he goes to a lot, the Life Café. I felt that I had nothing to live for. And at that moment, I didn't. So I locked myself in the bathroom and," She shivered, leaning against Mark. "I slit my wrists. But Mark's friend Maureen found me and the dragged me to the hospital and saved me."

Mrs. Wielkopolski stared at her agape. "You tried to _kill_ yourself? After your brother's death, you didn't learn that it isn't the right thing to do?"

"Ma, you don't understand! I was so lonely. I was so cold. You try sleeping on a park bench on Christmas. I was slowly going insane and I didn't have anyone to set my head on straight before I, well, you know…"

Mrs. Wielkopolski sat in silence, refusing to look at her daughter.

"Ma?" Winnie pleaded, grasping both her hands. "Ma, please, I need you now…"

"Oh, Winnie," Mrs. Wielkopolski slowly drew Winnie into her arms, holding her gently, almost as if she thought she'd shatter into a million pieces. "I'm so sorry I couldn't be there for you." She turned to Mark and tried to stop herself from crying. "Young man, I can't thank you enough for saving my baby. Thank you."

Mark smiled softly at her. "I didn't actually save her. I just got her to the hospital, the doctors really saved her," He said modestly.

Winnie sighed contentedly, leaning her head on his shoulder. "Ma, Mark Cohen's my hero."


	12. Chapter 11

I apologize that this is a bit shorter than normal. I just felt that it stood on it's own fine. Keep those reviews coming, folks. You should know by now that they make my day.

Peace

-elodie

Wisp

Chapter 11

It was the middle of June and Roger had a cold. He didn't want to tell Mark or Winnie because they'd just worry and he didn't want to tell Maureen or Joanne because they'd force him to see a doctor.

The air was just starting to get hot, just enough to make the sweat trickle slightly down his back, but he still shivered and coughed. It had started out as a small sniffle, a few sneezes. At first he thought it was allergies, since Mark always got like this in the spring because of all the pollen. But then it escalated. He felt like he had the flu, but he'd already had it in April.

He sneezed and coughed and used entire boxes of tissues in one day, and oh did he ache. Every muscle in his body screamed with every twitch he made. His head felt like a boulder and his hands felt foreign to him. But it was just a cold, he kept telling himself.

Roger hated dragging himself out of bed, but he was getting really hungry. He hated eating when he was sick. When he ate certain foods while he was sick, every time he went to eat them again while well he was reminded of how horrible he felt and he threw up whatever he'd eaten.

Mark was sitting at the table sipping a cup of coffee. His skinny, pale arms stuck out like sticks from his gray dingy t-shirt sleeves. He shot Roger a sympathetic smile and got up to pour him a cup of coffee.

"Thanks," Roger mumbled, his voice so hoarse he could barely recognize it as his own.

"Rog, are you OK?"

Roger nodded, taking a sip of the hot, black coffee. "Yeah. Just kind of mucus-y."

Mark grimaced. "Thank you for that lovely picture."

"So, where's Winnie?"

"She got up early and took my camera. She went to photograph people in the park."

"Ah." Roger nodded absently, wrapping the blanket around his thin shoulders. He still felt cold.

Mark noticed him shiver a bit and hug that blanket to him tightly. "Roger, are you sure you're alright? It's nearly eighty degrees out today and you're cold."

Roger shrugged. "I'm just a bit chilled. Winnie always shivers and you don't worry about it."

"I _do worry but by now I know that it's just a nervous reaction of hers. You, on the other hand, shiver when you're cold and or sick. And seeing as that it's very near summer and quite hot out, I'd say you're sick."_

"It's just a cold," Roger insisted. "Really. Don't worry about me."

"You know I will anyway. I don't want to make you go back to the hospital. I know you hate it there and I hate going there to visit you. I just want you to take care of yourself."

"I _have been."_

Mark downed his coffee and shrugged. "If you're sure."

"I am."

Mark lifted an eyebrow as Roger began to hack and cough. "Roger?"

Roger cleared his throat and gently touched it, wincing. "Yeah?" He croaked.

"Want me to go get you some medicine?"

Roger nodded gratefully. "Yeah, that'd be great. And cough drops. Ricola. The lemon kind."

Mark snorted. "OK, your highness. Anything else?"

"A cinnamon scented candle."

"Really?"

Roger shrugged. "Well, it makes Winnie feel better…"

"I can see your reason behind that. OK, I'll get you a candle. I'll be back in a bit. Bye Rog."

The door slammed and Roger winced. Everything was really starting to make his head ache. He hoped Mark would pick up some more aspirin for him. Last time he'd checked, they were all out.

Everything was quiet except for the distant blaring of horns and a few birds chirping. Keeping the blanket firmly wrapped around his shoulders, he crept out onto the balcony. As the sun hit his face and warmed the stubble-covered cheeks, his whole body felt warm and energized.

He wished it was always like this, warm and inviting. He used to love early summer when he was a kid. His dad took him camping and he'd play baseball and go swimming. It was warm, but not too hot. The nights were pretty, the expansive sky stretching out above him like a protective blanket, the little twinkling stars like sequins.

He hadn't seen the stars in so long. The bright city lights blocked them all. He'd like to see them, once more, before he died.

Roger shivered again, but this time not from cold. He was just afraid. Yes, he was afraid of death. He didn't want to die. He liked living. His friends were here, he had a home, a second family. His Mimi awaited him, his April, his Angel, but he'd leave behind his Mark, his Collins, his Maureen, his Joanne, his Winnie. They'd gotten him through this far and then he'd just abandon them.

He didn't know how Winnie would take it. Most everyone in her life had abandoned her, save for her mother and Mark, and her mother practically did. She's not allowed to call or speak of Winnie ever. Roger felt bad for Winnie. He genuinely liked her and was glad that she and Mark had each other. Mark was such a sad sack before, but now he had direction and purpose in his life.

Roger couldn't help but smile. Mark had been such a nerd when he first got to the city. He wore a retainer, had coke bottle glasses and stuttered. When Roger had first tried to talk to him, Mark had gotten so scared and thought that Roger was trying to beat him up. He was this young eighteen-year-old kid from a relatively small town, and had no street smarts whatsoever. Roger had felt sorry for him and took him under his wing.

They had such a weird relationship. Roger taught Mark how to be "cool", Mark taught Roger not to hide behind his problems. Mark had let Roger beat the shit out of him when he was going through withdrawal, Roger put up with Mark constantly shoving a camera in his face.

God, he was going to miss him. That goofy grin, those glasses, even those god awful sweaters he always wears. Those blue eyes that always worried over him, the blond hair that he let Roger tousle.

He'd miss the scar along Mark's cheek that he'd given him when he chucked something, he wasn't even sure what, at him so long ago. He'd miss his white chucks, his camera, his constant narration of everything.

He'd miss his best friend.

A few tears dripped down Roger's face. He rubbed them away in disgust. He was getting so sentimental. He didn't want to be sentimental. He should be angry. He was _dying, after all. Isn't that what people are like when they're dying?_

Mimi wasn't. She was kind, loving, even jovial till the end. She'd crack jokes at the most inappropriate times. And Roger would accidentally laugh at them.

Death was something to be faced with dignity. She'd lived her life and God had decided to take her back. Even after all the pain she'd suffered, she still believed. Roger respected that. He'd never believed. Even before he got sick. But he liked her God. It was an understanding God. The kind that would still love her even after her sins. Mimi wasn't perfect, but her God still respected her and allowed her into his kingdom.

Mimi would sometimes muse aloud to Roger about heaven. What she thought it was like, how much she hoped she'd be able to spend eternity there. Roger could picture her as an angel, dressed in a long white gown with expansive white wings. She'd sing whenever she liked and smile and never be in pain. She'd be in constant happiness.

Maybe death wouldn't be horrible. There'd be no pain; he'd be with his Mimi. Roger glanced down at the ground far down below the fire escape. No, he'd face death with dignity, at home, like Mimi did, surrounded by friends.

Who knows? Maybe it will come sooner than expected. He refused to listen to the doctors. They said he had a year. He didn't care what they said. He could die sooner, he could die later.

But whenever he died, Roger Davis wouldn't give in easy, but when he did give in, his head will be held high and he'd be smiling because he'd finally be able to see his Mimi.


	13. Chapter 12

Well, seeing as that I've never been high, tell me if I get something wrong. Y'know, if the behavior's kind of off, just tell me. Please. ::sigh:: I'm too tired to really research it. Thanks for all the kind reviews!

Peace

-elodie

Wisp

Chapter 12

Mark had been pacing all night. He and Winnie had taken Roger to the hospital the night before. Now, on the 4th of July, they were stuck in the hospital waiting room.

"Mark, come sit down. Pacing won't help him," Winnie pleaded. She'd curled herself up in a chair, her legs folded like a pretzel. She was shivering, glancing nervously at all the people sitting around them.

Mark shook his head. "No, I can't. How can you expect me to sit and relax while Roger's in there?"

"I never said you had to relax," Winnie murmured, wrapping her arms around herself. "Please, I just feel really uncomfortable in here and you're not making it any better."

"It's not all about you," Mark snapped. "You don't have to stay. If you feel so uncomfortable then just go home. It's not like I'm _making_ you stay."

Winnie stared at him in disbelief. "Well, excuse me. I can tell when I'm not wanted. I'll just go home now." She jumped out of the chair and began to walk out the doors.

"Some concern you have for Roger, huh?" Mark heard himself yell.

With sad eyes, Winnie shook her head and turned her back on him. Mark felt like a loser. He shouldn't have snapped like that. She didn't deserve it. Truth is, things had been a little tense between them lately.

Winnie was…late. And they were a bit financially strapped. She was scared to test, scared that she'd have to make a really big decision that she didn't think she was emotionally able to handle.

She'd been more withdrawn and Mark had been stressed. But they'd never snapped at each other. Not like that. Everything had been perfect all spring. They'd been closer than ever, especially after getting back from Gloucester. But the end of June had done them in.

They'd argued a bit, yelled, fought about silly things. But they'd never snapped.

Winnie was self-destructing again. Mark had seen the red lines all over her arms. She was depressed again. He urged her to go to therapy but she refused. And now he'd snapped at her. And she'd left…

*          *          *

Winnie had never thought her toes were funny, but as she wiggled them, she couldn't help giggling. God, it felt great to be high. She hadn't smoked a joint in more than a year and she loved the way her problems melted from her. She'd eaten so much. A sandwich, a bunch of pickles, chips, a nice big cup of coffee and nearly a whole pint of ice cream. She felt like her stomach would explode, but her toes were just so goddamn funny…

She lay on her back, gazing up at the stained ceiling. There were a bunch of dots arranged like stars. She lifted her arm up and pointed out Orion and Ursa Minor. This made her laugh some more.

Shit, it felt good to laugh. She and Mark hadn't laughed together in so long… Things were tense. Roger might actually kick the bucket.

Roger was dying… It couldn't really register in her cloudy mind. Well, he nearly died before and but then didn't. Maybe he'd pull through again.

The ceiling was really dirty…

If Roger could pull through, then everything would be happy. Every_one_.

There's a fly. It's on her foot.

If Mark could stop snapping at her. He's not the only one who's hurting. He didn't have to snap at her.

It flew away.

There's no baby. At least, the test said negative. She was relieved to say the least.

She should scrub the ceiling…

*          *          *

"Winnie, what are you doing?"

"The ceiling was dirty." Winnie was standing on a folding chair she'd placed on top of the easy chair. She was scrubbing furiously at the ceiling.

"Winnie, come down. You'll get hurt."

"But the ceiling is dirty!"

Mark grabbed her around the waist and pulled her down, getting hit in the face with a wet sponge in the process. "Winnie, the ceiling doesn't need to be cleaned. Wait, why are your eyes all bloodshot? You - You're stoned, aren't you?"

Winnie giggled and, tripping over her own feet, collapsed on the couch. "Roger had some pot stored in a drawer. I haven't gotten high since high school. It feels good to whisk all my troubles away."

Mark rolled his eyes. "You shouldn't forget about your troubles."

"Don't tell me what to do."

"I'm not trying to!"

"Yes you are!" 

"Listen; don't take out your anger on me."

"I hate this. You say that _I shouldn't forget my troubles? God, you're such a hypocrite."_

Mark was taken aback. "Since when am I a hypocrite?"

"Since forever."

"How?"

"You're telling me not to take out my anger on you, yet what do you think you're doing to me?" Winnie was smiling broadly, even though her voice was so angry. Mark tried to look away from her; he hated seeing her like this. It was scaring him.

He shook his head vehemently. "I'm not taking out my anger on you."

Winnie nodded. "You've been short with me for the past three weeks. You're criticizing me. Every little thing I do, it's wrong, it's bad; I shouldn't do it that way. Nothing's good enough. You're beginning to remind me of my brother."

"Listen, I am _not like your brother. If anyone is, you are!"_

"No!" Winnie screeched, covering her ears with her hands like a child. "I am not like my brother!" She pronounced each word separately, her voice beginning to crack. "I'm _not him."_

"Yes you are. All that progress we've made, it's out the door. You're acting like him again. Running away from your problems. Christ, look at your arm." Mark grabbed Winnie's arm and pointed to the angry red marks marring her pale skin. A bit higher than the ugly puckered scars from the past December, but just as deep. "You're self-destructing. Winnie, you're killing yourself slowly."

Winnie shook her head, starting to cry. "No, _you're_ killing me." She yanked her arm out of his grasp and ran for the door.

"Winnie! Where are you going?"

"Away!"

The door slammed.

Should he go after her? She probably needed some time to stew and then she'd be back and everything would be fine again. Truth is, he needed her. He had no one to talk to. Roger wasn't allowed any visitors yet, Maureen and Joanne were visiting Joanne's parents in Boston and Collins was away on business. That left Winnie. Who had just walked out the door on him.

He needed a drink… That's what he'd do. Get drunk. Drown all his sorrows away. Fucking Christ, he was a hypocrite…

*          *          *

Winnie shivered. It was cold out. She could feel a few chilly raindrops hit her cheeks, mixing with the salty tears.

Her head was beginning to clear. Where was she? On a Central Park bench, shivering in one of Mark's old t-shirts and corduroy pants. It was raining.

_Clap!_

Winnie jumped. Thunder… Great. She should really find shelter. Ugh, her head ached. She didn't want to move.

What had happened? Everything was kind of fuzzy, but slowly coming into focus. Mark, and the chairs and ceiling spots. How she'd sucked on that joint with her fingers shaking. They'd shook so much she kept missing her lips. That sweet smoke, spinning her head up and up and around.

She'd washed the ceiling and then Mark had…

Winnie groaned. She and Mark had fought. What had she called him? Oh, yeah. A hypocrite. It was true. He was. He'd always been. At least, as long as she'd known him.

They had so much in common… They had the same problems, it seems. But Winnie's were just ten times more visible so Mark pretended to take care of Winnie exclusively. But in doing so, he'd been fixing himself.

Did that make any sense?

Winnie threw her face back to feel the tiny sting of cold rain dropping onto her skin. Should she go home? A watch, did she have a watch? No. But it was close to sunup. The sky was lightening slightly. She could see the outline of clouds easier.

How many hours had she been out here? Too many. The shirt was completely soaked through. She felt like curling up and going to sleep, but everything was so wet.

This reminded her of that night so long ago. Seven months? Yeah, about that… Will there be an Angel to save her?

"You OK, honey?"

Winnie looked up and smiled broadly. "Angel…"

The drag queen took her hand and sat next to her on the bench. "Honey, you shouldn't be out in the rain on a horrible morning like this. Go home. That boy needs you. You need him."

"How did you-" Winnie's jaw dropped.

Angel interrupted her. "Oh, you'd be surprised, honey. Go home. Everything will be fine."

"Winnie!"

Winnie turned to see who was calling her name. It was Mark. He was running towards her.

He nearly knocked her off the bench as he fell to his knees in the mud and grabbed her in a tight hug. "Oh, Winnie, I've been looking for you for hours. Please don't ever leave like that again. I'm so sorry, Winnie."

Winnie wrapped her arms around him tightly. She was surprised to feel him quaking. Was he crying? "I want to go home," She said quietly.

"God, I'm such an idiot… I'll never do that to you again. You're right. I'm a fucking hypocrite and I've been horrible to you this past week. I'm just stressed about Roger. I'll never snap at you, I'll never yell. Winnie, I love you so much, don't leave me." Mark was sniffling and sobbing into her shoulder. He _was crying._

Winnie ran her fingers through his soft blond hair, patting the top of his head like she would a dog. "I won't," She murmured. Realizing something, her head snapped up and she looked around. "Where'd she go?"

"Who?" Mark lifted his head off her shoulder and wiped his eyes.

"Angel!"

"Angel?"

"Yes, Angel. She was just here a second ago. Then she disappeared. That was the person that got me out of the snow last Christmas. She brought me to the Life and gave me money. And she was right here. Just before you got here. I turned my head when you called and…" Seeing Mark's confused look, she leaned in and kissed him. "Never mind. Mark, do you think I could see a psychiatrist? Maybe you and I could go together. Anything. I need help."

Mark nodded, resting his head in her lap. "Anything to make you better, Winnie. I'll do anything for you."

"Let's go home," Winnie whispered, wiping away a tear from his face. "We need to go home."


	14. Chapter 13

Look Mom! No angst! Seriously, completely angst free. I needed a pick-me-up last night so I wrote something happy. Nah, actually I was planning this for awhile. Enjoy! Reviews are the food of life…

Peace

-elodie

Wisp

Chapter 13

Roger took a step gingerly, lifting one foot up and placing it on the stair to steady himself.

"Don't worry, Roger. I've got you," Winnie said encouragingly, holding onto his elbow tightly.

Roger turned to her, eyebrows raised. "So you're saying that if I fall, little Miss Winnie will be able to catch me?"

Winnie grinned and shrugged her shoulders. "I suppose so."

"That's so reassuring."

"Up you go. Just a few more flights."

"Again, that's so reassuring."

Coming home from the hospital was a surprise, especially to Roger. Just at the point where he should have died, something happened. He just suddenly felt better. Even the doctors had thought he was a goner. But he lived.

Winnie couldn't help smiling. He didn't have a clue…

*          *          *

"Got the noisemakers?"

"We don't want to give him a heart attack."

"Well, he deserves a nice scare after the one he gave us."

"That wasn't his fault…"

"Maureen, Joanne, shut up and find the noisemakers," Mark ordered, busy setting up his camera. "Collins, do you have Roger's special party hat?"

Collins held up a hideous pirate hat with a huge plumed feather sticking out of it. "Check!"

Mark nodded, holding the camera up. "Great. July 20th, one PM, Eastern Standard Time. Observe as we wait for Roger and Winnie to enter. Roger has recovered from his near-death experience and we've decided to give him another one, complete with pirate hats." He panned the loft, making sure he captured Maureen, Joanne and Collins with similar hats to the one saved specially for Roger, although they were a little less flashy. Roger needed his time in the limelight, whether he wanted it or not.

"Mark, we don't have a hat for Winnie."

Mark grinned devilishly. "Oh, yes we do. It's on my bed, if you want to go get it."

Collins disappeared into Mark's bedroom and came out with an incredulous look on his face and a gigantic hat in his hand. It was a purple and green leopard-print sombrero "You can't be serious."

"Oh, but I am."

"I didn't even know that they made these. You're spending the night on the couch, I'm assuming."

"You'd be surprised. Winnie's pretty flexible."

"Famous last words…"

Mark snorted. "As always. Are they getting closer?"

"A flight down, I think. What's the signal?"

"Winnie's going to tell Roger that it's wicked hot out."

"Those exact words?"

"Hey, they're Winnie's, not mine. I guess it's a Massachusetts thing."

Collins shook his head. "Massachusetts slang. Never really understood it. I never got how something could be 'wicked' cool."

"Must be something with Salem and the witches."

"Yeah, maybe that's it."

Joanne shushed them. "I can hear their footsteps."

The doorknob turned slightly. They could hear Winnie say, "Ugh, it's wicked hot out." The door swung open.

"Surprise!"

Joanne and Maureen blew the noisemakers and Collins leaped in front of Roger and stuffed the pirate hat on his head.

Roger stood in stunned silence, staring at them. "What the fuck?" He finally asked.

"Smile for the camera, Roger," Mark chirped, leaning in close.

"It's a surprise party, stupid!" Winnie nudged him. "It's fun! We're celebrating the fact that you're still alive. Smile a bit, stupid."

Roger bashfully grinned and lifted the hat off his head. "What's with the hats?"

"Pure humiliation," Mark answered as Collins placed Winnie's hat on her head.

She shrieked, "Mark! You said I didn't have to wear one!"

"I lied."

"I forgive you." She leaned in to kiss him, instead smashing the brim into his forehead. "Oops, sorry. But it serves you right."

Mark grinned. "I know. So, Roger, are you surprised?"

"Fuck yeah." He placed the hat back on his head. "Y'know, I kind of like this hat. Next time we go out, I think I may wear it."

"Oh god," Collins muttered. "Mark, you've created a monster."

"Roger, Winnie and I have another surprise for you. And actually for Collins, Maureen and Joanne also," Mark told them all, wrapping his arm around Winnie's shoulders. "You all know that Winnie's aunt Lilia lives in Provincetown and has invited us to stay anytime we like. Well, we've decided that we're going to visit at the end of September and you're invited to come along. And in Roger's case, your attendance is required."

  
Maureen grinned. "Ooh, Provincetown! That sounds great. Dyke paradise! Pookie, let's go. It'd be fun."

Joanne sighed, smiling widely. "Of course, Honeybear. We do need to take a trip that doesn't consist of visiting parents."

Mark cringed, "Well, there's a slight catch. You see; we have to make a tiny stopover in Scarsdale. Mom's been itching to see me, and well… I kind of want her to meet Winnie."

"Well, I want to meet her." Winnie said.

"Famous last words…"

*          *          *

Fast forward two months, and the heroes are found climbing out of Joanne's borrowed minivan in the driveway of the Cohen childhood home.

"Mark Cohen, I haven't seen you in three years!" Mark nearly had the wind knocked out of him as a short, plump woman ran to him and threw her arms around his shoulders. She pushed herself off of him and grabbed his face, pulling him down so that she could kiss both of his cheeks soundly.

"Mom," He complained, wiping off the lipstick as soon as she let go.

"You never call, you never visit, then one day you appear out of the blue with a van full of people! Honey, you shouldn't surprise me like that." She turned to the four people milling behind him. "Oh, Tom Collins, it's good to see you again." She grabbed him in a tight hug. "And how is your poor mother doing? She's coping I hope."

Collins nodded, wincing a bit. "Yeah, she's fine."

"I admired your father, I did. Only met him once, but he seemed like a fine man."

"Thank you, Mrs. Cohen. I appreciate that."

Mrs. Cohen hugged Roger as well. "I hope you're well, Roger Davis."

"So far, so good, ma'am." Roger said quietly.

"Oh, and…Maureen. It's nice to… Well, I certainly look forward to hearing what you've been up to. And who's this?"

Joanne looked up like a deer caught in headlights. She was trying to keep Mrs. Cohen from noticing her presence as she dragged a bag from the back of the van.

"Mrs. Cohen, this is my girlfriend," Maureen said. "Joanne Jefferson. Joanne, this is Mark's mother." Maureen pulled Joanne to her, wrapping her arm around her waist and giving her a big sloppy kiss on the cheek.

"Charmed," Mrs. Cohen said.

"It's very nice to meet you, Mrs. Cohen," Joanne said politely, holding out a hand to shake.

Mark brought his mother's attention to Winnie. "Mom, this is my girlfriend Winnie. Winnie, this is the Wicked Witch of the West."

Mrs. Cohen scowled at her son but embraced Winnie. "Ignore my son the joker. It's so nice to meet you. Ooh, do you want to see what Mark looked like as a little boy? I've got _so many pictures. Come, I'll make you some cocoa." She led Winnie inside the house. Winnie turned back to shook Mark a 'save me' glance but he just shrugged and helped Joanne drag their bag inside the house._

*          *          *

"Ooh, and there's little Marky in the bathtub at age three. Wasn't he so cute? He was such a little chubbo!"

"Mom!" Mark blushed furiously. "Do you really have to show everyone those pictures?"

"I think she does, Mark," Collins laughed. "Nice Mohawk. Well, _you_ always shove that camera of yours in our faces. Now it's your turn to be embarrassed."

Mark protested, "But this is different!"

"Oh, Mark. You're still carrying around that old camera? Didn't your father always tell you that it's rude to film everyone all the time?"

Mark could feel a little bit of anger boil up inside him but bit his tongue to keep himself quiet.

Winnie giggled, "I can see you certainly liked spaghetti enough. Oh, what a cute tush you had!"

"Winnie!"

"It's cuter now…" Winnie grinned slyly.

Mark moaned and covered his face with his hands. "Remind me again why we came?"

"Because you haven't visited in awhile, that's why. Oh, by the way Mark, Cindy and the kids are popping over tomorrow. You finally get to meet your nephews."

"Oh, fun fun…" Mark stood up and stretched. "I'm going for a walk. Anyone want to come?"

Winnie shook her head. "Nah. These pictures are too cute. I want to see all of them!"

Mark groaned. "Mom, is there any way you could skip the junior high years? Please?"

"Why?"

"Mom, you know why…" Mark hissed, his face flushing pink.

Mrs. Cohen sighed. "Mark, most teenage boys get acne. Although, yours was a particularly bad case, but it's completely normal. And the braces weren't so bad. And you _wanted to wear those horn-rimmed glasses."_

Mark threw up his hands and made a sound of disgust. "Bye everyone," He yelled as the door slammed.

This was too embarrassing… Why did his mother have to crack out all the baby pictures? She didn't do that when he'd brought Maureen to visit. Of course, she'd never really liked Maureen. But she barely knew Winnie. He'd only mentioned her on the phone once.

Maybe Maureen was just the sort of person people like Mrs. Cohen didn't like.

A chilly autumn breeze ruffled his shaggy hair and he shivered. Why hadn't he grabbed his jacket? He wished he'd grabbed his camera too. Oh well. Too late.

Just seeing all the houses, looking exactly the same of course, just killed him. It reminded him how much he'd hated it here.

"Mark! Wait up, man."

Mark turned to see Roger running to catch up with him, Mark's jacket and camera in hand.

"Just figured you'd want these."

Mark smiled. "Thanks, Roger. You wanna come with me?"

"Actually, yeah. You're mother's giving me a headache. And I don't appreciate seeing pictures of you naked. I've only seen you naked once, and that was by accident and I prefer to keep it that way."

Mark snorted. "Glad to hear that. And don't blame me for that one time. The lock wouldn't work."

"Could've put a chair in front of it."

"I was getting laid. You think I thought of that? Besides, I've seen you naked on multiple occasions."

"What!"

"Oh yeah, you nudist you." Mark grinned at Roger's alarmed expression. "Well, you always walk around naked!"

"When no one's home!"

Mark smiled sympathetically. "Well, when you _think_ that no one's home. And I must say, and this is coming from a completely straight man's perspective, _nice_."

Roger shook his head, trying to dispel the comment from his mind. "OK, that's enough."

"So, who else have you seen naked?"

"Are you serious?"

"Yeah, I'm curious."

Roger made a face, biting his lip in thought. "Well, there's you, and then Collins, Maureen and Winnie."

"Maureen and Winnie?" Mark lifted his eyebrows in alarm.

Roger shrugged. "Maureen flashed me and I walked in on Winnie changing. Oh, and when I walked in on you two going at it. And Collins was drunk and hit on me once. His pick up lines are pretty out there. Then he unzipped his fly and… Never mind. What about you?"

"Well, I walked in on Mimi in the shower. Obviously Winnie, as you so eloquently pointed out. Maureen, another obvious one. And, well, you."

A sharp wind blew, sending chills down Mark's back. He shivered and shrugged on his coat. "Hey, feel like hitting a bar? Nothing else to do. We'll leave the rest of the perverts to look at my evolution from nudist to nerd to cool nerd."

Roger raised an eyebrow. "Cool nerd?"

"C'mon, at least give me that one."

"OK, I'll admit that you're cooler now than you were five years ago. But still… Anyway, a bar sounds fine. I need a few beers to be able to deal with your mother when we get home."

"She's not _that bad."_

"After you left, she pulled out the pubescent years. Man, you were a crater face!"

Mark blushed,  "Gee thanks, Roger." He turned the camera on and held it up close in Roger's face. "Smile!"


	15. Chapter 14

I actually had this done a few days ago, but I wasn't entirely happy with it. So I revised it a little bit and found that the reason I don't like it much is because it's a bit of a filler chapter. But I think that's OK. Considering what I have in store, a little bit of fluff is nice.

Also, anyone who can guess where I live gets a cookie. You get two if you've been there and three if you live there too.

Peace

-elodie

Wisp

Chapter 14

"I've never had sex in this bed before, y'know," Mark whispered into Winnie ear mischievously.

Winnie cringed. "Mark, it's creepy in here. All this Star Wars stuff. I can't have sex with Yoda staring at me."

"He won't care," Mark insisted.

Winnie laughed, running her finger down Mark's bare chest. "That's not the point. So, you really never had a girl in here?"

Mark flushed, gesturing to the rest of the room. "If you're scared by this room, do you think normal girls would be?"

"So I'm not normal?"

"No, you're perfect."

Winnie kissed his nose gently. "Winnie the Pooh said once, 'If you live to be a hundred, I want to live to be a hundred minus one day so I never have to live without you.' Well, that's how I feel about you. I know I'm not perfect, but when you say that, it almost makes me think that I am, just for one fleeting moment."

"In my eyes, you're perfect," Mark whispered, nuzzling her neck and kissing her gaunt collarbone. "I love you."

"I love you too," Winnie murmured, chills running down her spine as he kissed her lips gently. She pulled away and held a finger to his lips, rising out of the bed. She disappeared from the room, entering again a minute later with a roll of Scotch tape in one hand and a big piece of wrapping paper in the other. Mark watched, amused, as she taped the paper over the Yoda poster.

"You are so weird," Mark laughed, pulling her down onto the bed, trailing kisses down her bare stomach. "It's so endearing."

Winnie smiled and caressed his hair, feeling his blond hair run through her fingers. "You shouldn't talk."

"I never said I wasn't weird."

"You are weird, but it's _so endearing."_

Mark grinned. "How about a little mood music?" He rummaged through the drawer next to his bed and pulled out a cassette tape, popping it into the small tape player.

Winnie cringed as the Star Wars theme began to play. "Mark…"

*          *          *

"Mark, what time are you planning on leaving today? Because Cindy's coming at noon for lunch and I want you to see her."

"Mom," Mark groaned. He and his sister… Well, they'd never gotten along to put it lightly.

Mrs. Cohen put her hands on her hips and stared at him with that look that mothers know so well. "Mark Cohen, she is your only sibling. Your own flesh and blood. When your father and I are dead and gone, you two will have to get along. Might as well start now."

"Mom…" Mark protested again but at the sound of Winnie's snort backed down and shoved a forkful of pancakes in his mouth.

"Oh Mother! Marky! Gimme a hug!"

Mark groaned. He turned to Winnie and mouthed "Cindy."

A tall, thin blond woman with a toddler on her hip and an older boy following right behind her burst into the kitchen, a big fake smile on her face. "Marky!" She squealed, setting her son down and nearly suffocating Mark with her grip. "You never call," She teased, poking his nose. "Happy to see me?"

Mark sat stunned. "Cindy, you're early. It's eight in the morning. Your voice is already giving me a headache."

Cindy scoffed. "Oh, Marky. Don't be such a sourpuss. Hi, I'm Cindy," She extended her hand toward Winnie. Winnie accepted it tentatively, giving her a small smile. "You must be Marky's girlfriend. How I pity you."

Winnie half smiled, pushing her pancakes around on her plate.

"Cindy, this is Winnie. She doesn't like loud noises. Stop screeching in her ear."

"Oh, Marky. I'm not screeching. Besides, when I came to visit Mom last night, I certainly heard loud noises coming out of your bedroom, so I doubt that she completely hates them."

Winnie's face flushed crimson. "Excuse me," She murmured, retreating back to Mark's room.

Mark scowled at his sister, remembering how much he'd loathed her when he was younger. Perfect Cindy, cheerleader Cindy, class president Cindy, _snobby_ Cindy. "Now look what you did."

Cindy shrugged nonchalantly, taking the fork out of Mark's hand and shoveling a piece of his pancake into her mouth. "I didn't mean any harm. It was just a simple comment. She overreacted. Seems like you've got another drama queen on your hands, Marky. At least she's not as bad as that last one. What was her name again? Minnie?"

"I believe that my name is Maureen." Maureen stood in front of Cindy, hands on her hips. "You leave Mark alone. Winnie too. She's not a drama queen. If you knew the slightest thing about _either_ of them you'd know that saying such things is only making their lives miserable."

Cindy, thoroughly surprised to see Maureen standing in front of her, scoffed at her, a cruel teasing edge to her voice. "What are they _suicidal_ or something? Any little thing is going to make them go nuts and slit their wrists in front of everyone. _Hey_!" There was a loud slap and Mark stared at Maureen in stunned silence. "You little bitch!"

"Cindy, don't swear in front of the kids!"

"Sorry Mom," Cindy said, holding her cheek with her hand. "Geez, what was that for you stupid wench?"

Maureen said coldly, "That was for everything you've done to make Mark's life miserable. Don't ever say anything like that again. You don't know them."

"He's my brother. Of course I know him."

"Sure you do. Who was Mark's first girlfriend? Who's his best friend? What's his favorite color? Huh? Do you know any of that?"

"He had a girlfriend before you? I'm certainly surprised."

"That's not the point."

"Who are you to march into this house and talk to me like this? You shouldn't even be here. You dumped Mark. You helped to make his life miserable. Don't blame it all on me. I haven't even seen him in three years."

Mark grabbed Maureen's arm and whispered, "Mo, it's OK. Let's just leave." He could see Winnie peering out from his room, her eyebrows lifted in surprise.

"So, what's for breakfast?"

Mark sighed and passed Roger his half-eaten plate of pancakes. "Here, eat this then get packed. We're leaving." He left into his room and closed the door.

Roger looked around at Maureen and Cindy, shoveling pancakes into his mouth. "What did I miss?"

*          *          *

"I still can't believe that bitch! Mark, how could you have put up with her growing up?" Maureen was still ranting and they were an hour away from Scarsdale.

Roger asked again, "Really, _what did I miss?"_

"Maureen, forget about it. She's just like that, OK? She was always kind of embarrassed of me. Y'know, she thought she was all high and mighty and I was her dorky little brother. You saw the old pictures. Would you have wanted to hang around me with the braces and the acne?"

"But it's so rude and demeaning. And to judge Winnie like that. She'd never even met her!"

Winnie remained silent, curled up again Mark in the backseat.

"Really, what did I miss?"

"Shut up Roger," Maureen ordered, turning back to look at Mark. "Mark, it's _cruel. And you didn't even stand up for yourself!"_

Mark shrugged, looking out the window at the trees going by. "I never did. Probably never will. I'll only see her every so many years. It's not so bad."

Collins spoke up from behind him, "Mark, I remember how you used to complain about her. She was horrible to you."

"It's in the past."

"What happened?" Roger asked again.

Maureen sighed and rolled her eyes. "Cindy came early, made a mean comment to Winnie, was mean to Mark, called me _Minnie_ of all things," She shuddered. "Then she proceeded to make an extremely inappropriate comment about Mark and Winnie."

Mark glared at her. "Maureen, it's not that bad."

"No! She doesn't know what you two have to go through. She doesn't know that you really are-"

"Maureen! Stop," Mark ordered. "Really. Listen, I'll explain later. Just _not now."_

Maureen sniffed and turned around to face the front again. "Pookie, are we there yet?"

Joanne gritted her teeth. "Not for a few more hours, Maureen. We have to go through Connecticut and Rhode Island and then it's another two hours from there."

"Pookie, I have to piss really bad."

"Me too," Winnie piped up.

"Actually, I kind of have to also," Collins said from the way back.

"Pookie, I'm gonna wet my pants!"

Joanne squinted at the road ahead. "Maureen, I don't see anyplace to stop. Looks like you might have to just use the woods."

Maureen cringed. "Pull over."

*          *          *

As the hours dragged on, Winnie found herself drifting in between sleep and consciousness. Mark was sleeping. She felt his steady breathing. Roger was too. She could hear his familiar snores behind her.

They were in Massachusetts, she could tell from the signs. Probably near the coast too. She could smell the salty air coming in from Joanne's open window in front of her. She always loved the ocean. Living right near the ocean growing up had been her one fond memory.

Sometimes she'd get up really early in the morning and sit in the sand and watch the sun come up. It was really pretty at night too. With the moon sparkling in the water. She couldn't wait to see it again.

Mark and Maureen had never seen the ocean before. Joanne used to vacation on the Cape. She and her family had a summer house in Chatham. And Roger went camping in Maine once, right on the shore. Collins said he'd skinny-dipped with his first boyfriend on the Jersey Shore.

Winnie couldn't imagine never seeing the ocean before. She loved both the gentle spray and the hard crashing waves.

"Joanne, look! There's the bridge!"

Joanne smiled in the mirror at her. "I loved these bridges. We'd always take the Bourne Bridge, but personally, I liked the Sagamore Bridge better. I don't know why. Something about seeing that thatch-roofed Christmas Tree Shop would just remind me that it's just _great_ to be on the Cape."

Winnie grinned, pressing her face against the window to get a good look at the canal. It was hard to believe that men had really dug it all. The water was dark blue, churned only by a small boat speeding through.

She shook Mark gently, waking him up. "Mark, look out the window."

He looked and smiled. "It's beautiful."

"Look closely at the horizon! See that? It's the ocean, Mark!"

Mark grinned through the groggy haze of sleep. She was so excited. This made him so happy. After what had happened in July, anything that made her even slightly happy just made his heart swell. Anything that made her excited about living, anything that made her eyes sparkle, anything that made her smile. He kissed the top of her head and stared at the horizon. It _was_ the ocean. Such a beautiful thing.

Roger snored loudly, shifting positions. Collins made a sound of discomfort. He elbowed Roger to wake him up. "He keeps elbowing me."

Roger's eyes fluttered open. "Hey, don't elbow me."

"Ok, everyone," Joanne announced. "Now that you're all awake, I have a few things to explain about the Cape. For one thing, you are _on the Cape, not __in it. OK? Another thing, there's no canal tunnel and no bridge to Nantucket. Also, you can't talk to me on a certain stretch of highway. They call it Suicide Alley because there are so many crashes there. So I need to concentrate a bit. We still have a long way to go. Remember that Provincetown's at the very tip? Well, it'll take over an hour to get there and that's if we don't hit traffic. I don't think we will, seeing as that it's slightly out of season here."_

"Yes ma'am," Mark said, leaning his head on Winnie's shoulder.

"Maureen, you got any aspirin?" Roger asked, rubbing his eyes. "I've got a headache."

Maureen fished a bottle out of the glove compartment and handed it back to Mark who handed it back to Roger.

"You don't get carsick, do you?" Collins asked Roger.

Roger shrugged. "Sometimes. Usually not so bad. I usually don't get headaches though. I'm probably just tired."

"Let's play a game!" Maureen suggested, unbuckling her seatbelt and turning around to face the four in the back. "Truth. Truth or dare without the dare. Y'know?"

Collins raised an eyebrow. "What are you twelve?"

"Collins, for that, you're going first. When did you first have sex?"

"Maureen…"

"C'mon, there's nothing else to do."

"This is so juvenile."

"Just answer the question!"

Collins sighed. "Fine. When I was fifteen."

"With who?"

"With _whom and you already got your one question. Now, what's with that tattoo that says 'Roger' on your butt?"_

Maureen burst into laughter. "You've seen that? Oh, Mark, remember that? We had a bet and if I won then you'd have to shave off all your hair and I meant _all of it and if you won then I had to tattoo Roger's name on my butt. And you won. So Roger's name adorns my ass."_

"And why did it have to be my name?" Roger asked.

Mark shrugged. "That was back when you were in the band. You were the sex god of the neighborhood. An obvious choice."

"And that tattoo hurt like hell! Anyway, Winnie, what was your first impression of all of us? Individually."

Winnie froze, remembering the circumstances under which they'd met. "Um, well… I felt kind of sorry for Roger because the first time I saw him he was sobbing. And I thought Collins was really nice. He'd brought me my candle. And Joanne seemed like the rational, level-headed one. Maureen, I don't really remember much but I thought you were really loud. Everything was kind of blurry. And Mark… Mark, I was kind of afraid of you."

Mark was surprised. "_Afraid of me? But I'd never hurt a fly."_

Winnie shrugged. "Yeah, but I didn't know that. I was scared and alone and you were a strange guy with a camera and you just started talking to me. You startled me. I didn't trust anyone when I first met you. But I'm not afraid anymore."

Mark tightened his arms around her. "That's perfect."

"It's your turn to ask the question," Maureen prodded.

Winnie smiled and turned to face Roger. "Roger, what sort of image do you have in your head when you masturbate?"

Roger's jaw dropped in shock. "What? Little innocent Miss Winnie asking a question like that?"

"Answer the question," She sing-songed.

"Fine," Roger grumbled. "Bettie Page."

"I knew it!" Winnie grinned widely, turning to Mark. "It must be that picture you gave him."

"You told her?" Roger demanded of Mark.

Mark grinned at Roger. "Oh you'd be surprised at what I tell her."

Roger scowled. "Ok, little Marky. Here's a question for you. Have you ever fucked in your childhood bed?"

Mark and Winnie glanced at each other, blushing furiously. "Um, yeah…" Mark muttered.

Roger saw the looks on their faces and smirked. "Oh yeah? When?"

"You got your one question!"

"I think most of us can testify that it happened last night. Correct Collins?"

Collins winced. "Unfortunately, yes."

"But I didn't think we were being that loud!" Mark protested.

"Pookie," Maureen interrupted them. "I really gotta piss."


	16. Chapter 15

Um, yeah… As you may be able to tell, I'm starting to slow a bit on this. The beginning of school honeymoon is over and Sophomore year basically sucks thus far. Being fifteen is really horrible. Anyway, it's getting harder to write a chapter every night because of homework. I'm taking two honors classes and homework is… Well, a bitch. So, please, even if the parts stop coming quite so frequently, please keep reading and reviewing. The reviews really make my day and right now, I _really_ need someone to make my day.

Also, Kelby gets three billion cookies because she mentioned the Cape Cod pizza (which is great, although Town Spa pizza is still the best) and the Cape Cod Mall, which I'm going to on Saturday, by the way.

Peace

-elodie

Wisp

Chapter 15

"Looks at the houses! They're all the same!" Winnie said incredulously, pointing at the line of houses on their left, stretching out next to the coastline. And the ones on stilts! That's crazy."

Mark couldn't help smiling. She was getting so excited. Her nose was pressed up against the glass window, a big grin on her face.

"Almost there," Joanne murmured.

Fifteen minutes later, they were parked in the tiny driveway in front of a three-story house. A woman with long red curly hair was waiting on the doorstep. She wore a gauzy skirt with a paint-smudged apron over it.

Winnie burst out of the van and ran to the woman. "Aunt Lilia!"

"Little Miss Winnie, I'm so happy to see you."

Mark climbed out of the van and got a good look at Lilia. She and Winnie looked so much alike. The same red hair, same freckles. They were both tiny and so thin, although Winnie looked a bit more emaciated, but had the same delicateness that Mark just loved about Winnie.

Winnie grabbed Lilia's hand and pulled her down to the van. "Aunt Lilia, this is Roger, Collins, Maureen and Joanne. And this is my boyfriend, Mark. This is my Aunt Lilia!"

Lilia enveloped Mark in a delicate hug. "So nice to meet you," She breathed. Her voice was soft and breathy, a bit ethereal; much like Winnie's was when she was scared.

"It's very nice to meet you. Winnie spoke very highly of you," Mark said.

Lilia smiled and patted his shoulder. "I'm so happy to hear that. Well, everyone, you can just grab your bags and come inside. I can make everyone some tea."

*          *          *

"I haven't swam for so long…" Roger mused, a wave burying his feet in the cold wet sand. He laughed softly. "I wonder if I still know how."

"It's like riding a bicycle," Winnie piped up, only her head poking out of the water. "You can't forget. C'mon Roger, come swim with me. All the rest of them are wimps. I need _someone to swim with."_

Roger winced. "The water's so cold…"

"But that's the brilliant part! It numbs so after a minute or so. I can't feel a thing right now."

"Ok…" Roger took a deep breath and dove in. "Shit, it's fucking cold." He stood waist high in the water, his arms crossed over his chest and he was shivering like mad.

Winnie grinned, swimming over to him. "It's the beauty of the ocean, Roger."

"It's still cold!"

"Wimp."

Roger snorted and began to walk out of the water. "Wimp I may be, but crazy I am not."

"You sure about that?"

Roger turned back and saw Winnie grinning wickedly. "I'm not crazy!" He protested.

Winnie shrugged. "It's highly overrated to be sane. However, it's safer. Well, on most occasions. You're a bohemian, Roger. There's no way you're not crazy."

"I'm still not staying in that cold water. Besides, I have a headache."

Winnie climbed out of the water after him. "How bad? Wicked bad?"

Roger shrugged. "It's the same as it's been. Kind of throbbing, but nothing unbearable." He winced. "I think I need to go lie down."

"Roger, are you sure you're OK?"

Roger waved her off. "Yeah, yeah I'm fine. Don't worry about me. Let's just go back to the house."

*          *          *

"Mark, I'm worried about Roger." Winnie whispered.

Mark murmured back, "Me too."

"He keeps getting those headaches."

"Well, he used to get headaches when he was under a lot of stress. But these seem different."

Winnie was shivering a bit, sitting at the window in their room. Mark sat up in bed, a bit startled to see her shivering. She hadn't shivered in so long. "Winnie? Are you OK?"

Her head snapped up and looked back at him. "Oh, yeah. Yeah, I'm fine. Just worried. I can't sleep."

Mark swung his legs over the side of the bed. "Me neither."

"Want to go get something to eat?"

"Yeah, sure."

They carefully found their way downstairs to the kitchen. They were surprised to see Lilia sitting at the table, her long fingers delicately holding a teacup to her lips.

"Ah, Winnie. What are you doing up so late? Or early, should I say?"

Winnie murmured, "Couldn't sleep," and slid down in the chair beside her.

"Worried about your friend?"

"Yeah, actually. How did you know?"

Lilia gently set her teacup down. "Mark, come sit down. I dislike it when people hover." Mark blushed and sat down in the chair next to Winnie. "Miss Winnie, I'm very good at reading people. Roger's in pain and you mysteriously can't sleep. It's not a difficult thing to deduce."

Winnie leaned her head against her aunt's shoulder. "Aunt Lilia, you know that we really appreciate you letting us stay here for the weekend, right? This weekend, it's been great. A great escape from everything."

"I know, baby," Lilia murmured. "Just don't always try to escape from everything. A little escape every now and again is satisfying, but when you try to live your life as one big escape, you find yourself hurting more. Promise me you'll never live like that."

Winnie shivered, feeling a pang in her wrists. "I promise, Aunt Lilia."

Mark sat back and watched the scene. Winnie was promising her aunt everything that he'd always tried to make her promise. It's a wonder what a good, loved family member could do. He could see her smile softly towards him and felt her squeeze his hand lightly.

He loved her. He really did. Lately, he'd been carrying around a box in his pocket again, but a different sort of box. Not like the box he used to carry around. In it was a simple ring with a diamond on it. His mother had given it to him when he'd visited a few years ago, before he'd brought Maureen home. Mrs. Cohen had only heard mentions of Maureen and knew that Mark was head over heels.

So she'd given him her mother's wedding ring. It was small and simple, nothing especially flamboyant. But it was enough. Winnie wasn't flashy. She appreciated small acts of kindness and love.

The ring was beginning to burn a hole in his pocket. He longed to take it out, show it to her, ask her that certain question. But she was so young. It wouldn't do them any good to commit this early. After all, they'd only known each other for a little less than ten months.

But still… To see her wearing that ring and to know that she was his just made Mark's heart ache.

Sighing, he made up his mind. He'd bring it up tomorrow. Not in any big showy gesture, it was unlike him and it would just embarrass Winnie. No, he'd just casually mention it and if she shows interest, then he'd bring out the ring, Mark decided.

Yeah, that's what he'd do.

*          *          *

Mark had practiced in his mind all night. He was all prepared. Everything was meticulously planned. But the one thing he lacked was the courage to actually mention it.

He'd tried in the morning, but felt that she was too tired to take it to heart. He tried at noon, but Winnie was always around everyone else and Mark didn't feel like mentioning it in front of everyone else. In the afternoon, Roger had gone to take a nap and she decided that she was tired and was going to take one too.

Mark stretched out on his bed. Next to him, Winnie whistled softly in her sleep. She mumbled something and rolled over, her body pressed up against his. Her eyes fluttered open.

"Mark?"

"Mmm?"

"What time is it?"

Mark glanced at his watch. "About six."

She smiled. "Well, I had a nice nap."

Mark pulled her closer to him in a big hug. "Yes you did, Miss Winnie. There's no way you'll be able to sleep tonight."

"All the better for you." Winnie grinned wickedly.

Mark took a deep breath. "Winnie, have you ever thought about us?"

"Of course I have," Winnie said slowly, not quite understanding.

He took a deep breath and reiterated, "Well, I mean _us_. Have you ever thought about _us_ and what we'll do in…? Well, the future."

Winnie kissed him gently. "Yes, I've thought about the future. Right now, I love being with you. You make me feel safe and I feel like I never want to leave."

"You make it sound like you have to leave," Mark said quietly, a bit sobered by her unspoken words.

Winnie shrugged and nestled her head into his shoulder. "Nothing ever lasts forever. Nothing is a sure thing. You know how much I want it to be. Right now, I never _want to leave you."_

"You're such a cynic."

"I know. I can't help it."

Mark kissed her, tracing his finger down her neck. "I love you."

"And I love-"

"Roger!"

Mark and Winnie's heads snapped up. Maureen was screaming Roger's name over and over.

They leapt out of bed and rushed to Roger's room. Maureen was sobbing, shaking Roger viciously.

"What's wrong?" Mark asked Joanne. She looked like she was trying so hard to hold back tears but was failing miserably.

"Roger's… Roger's dead, Mark."


	17. Chapter 16

This is getting harder to write. It may be coming near an end. I've never actually finished anything before and I'm surprised I got this far with this. Will I write more Rent fic after this? Probably. It's been a blast. Keep those reviews coming. You know I love you guys. You made a tough week better for me and then it got even better after that so I'm a pretty happy person. I just want you all to know that I really do appreciate you.

Peace

-elodie

Wisp

Chapter 16

Winnie still hated churches. This was only her second time in a church this year. She shivered. The other time had been a funeral too…

Mark was crying, making it hard for him to speak. He stood up at the front, giving Roger's eulogy. He kept pausing to take off his glasses and wipe his eyes on his shirtsleeve.

"Roger was my best friend," He choked out. "He was with me through thick and thin. I came to this city knowing no one and he took me in and gave me a home." Mark took a deep breath. "Roger Davis was not a perfect person. He had his demons. He had his share of hardships. He could be a bit of a grouch sometimes, wasn't the most agreeable, and he snored," Mark added, a slight grin breaking through the tears. "But no one's perfect. Roger was a strong person. He was a _good person. He cared about his friends, he cared about his music. Before he… Before he got sick, he'd take in strays and set them on their feet. That's what he did for me. Roger Davis kept me alive during some tough times and I'm forever grateful and indebted to him. He was my best friend, and I'm not… I'm not sure how I'm going to live without him."_

Winnie stared straight at the floor in front of her, shivering like crazy. Maureen reached out to steady her, but Winnie shied away.

"Don't touch me," She hissed, turning to glare at Maureen.

Maureen recoiled, a bit startled by the reaction. "I was just trying to-"

"Just don't touch me. Please," Winnie whispered sharply, turning her gaze back to the floor in front of her.

Joanne squeezed Maureen's hand reassuringly. "Don't try to help. She'll only let Mark touch her," She whispered in Maureen's ear. "You'll only make it worse. Don't worry about it, she'll come around."

Maureen leaned into Joanne, cuddling against her. "Joanne, I miss Roger."

*          *          *

They sat on opposite sides of the room, knees drawn to chests, chins on knees. Neither were crying but the sadness and pain in the room was so thick that it could be cut with a knife.

"A fucking aneurysm," Mark muttered. "After all that, a fucking aneurysm."

"Mark, please don't talk about this now. I-I can't deal with it."

"Well, you're going to have to," Mark snapped. "I just can't get over it. After fighting so hard all those years, a fucking aneurysm does him in."

"Shut up!" Winnie hissed, covering her ears with her hands.

Mark shook his head in disgust. "Don't run from it. Roger is dead."

"Mark, just… Please," Winnie pleaded, starting to cry.

Mark turned away from her, trying to block out the sounds of her sobs. He couldn't believe she wouldn't even let him mention Roger. He was trying to deal with this, but she wouldn't let him. How dare she? He curled himself into a tighter ball.

He could feel himself breaking down. He was almost crying. _Don't cry, don't cry_, he told himself furiously. Mark glanced up at Winnie, starting to feel a bit sorry for her. She was crying so hard, lying against the wall, hugging her arms around her so tightly. Her shivering was obvious.

Slowly pushing himself up, he crossed the room and kneeled down before her. "Winnie," He said softly, reaching out to put a hand on her shoulder.

"Don't touch me," She hissed, sitting straight up, a wild scared look in her eyes.

Mark recoiled and backed away. "Winnie, I'm sorry. I just-"

"I just can't deal with this right now, Mark," She whispered, curling herself up into a tight ball. "I really can't."

"Fine," Mark spat, disgusted at her. "I'm going to bed. See you in the morning."

Winnie lifted her eyes to stare at his retreating back and began to sob harder. She wished she'd let him hug her, wrap her in his arms and kiss her tears away but she just couldn't. She couldn't explain it.

Leaning her head back against the wall, she sighed heavily. It was so cold. She couldn't stop shivering.

"Winnie?"

Winnie turned to look in the direction of the voice. Mark was standing in the doorway, his eyes wet and swollen. "Go away, Mark. I need to be alone."

"Do you want to come to bed Winnie? I promise I won't touch you. It's really cold out here and I have the heater working in there."

Winnie didn't answer, staring at her feet.

"Winnie?"

She slowly turned to look at him. His eyes were pleading. She shivered. It certainly _was cold._

"Fine," She said softly, pushing herself up off the floor. "I'll come."

Mark smiled, relieved by this and held the door open for her. They collapsed on the bed, fully clothed. Winnie huddled on one side, Mark watching her from the other.

"Winnie, I love you. You know that right?"

"I know," Winnie murmured, shivering again.

*          *          *

Mark awoke the sound of a ringing phone. He ignored it. Winnie wasn't in bed any more, she'd get it.

But the phone kept ringing and ringing. The answering machine picked up and he heard a loud, "_Speak!" and a shrill beep._

"C'mon, Mark. I know you're up there."

Mark groaned. It was Collins and he was downstairs. Now he had to get out of bed.

"Mark? C'mon you lazy ass. Get up. I know you're not sleeping."

"I'm coming, I'm coming," Mark muttered, picking up the phone. "Hey Collins. Hang on a second and I'll throw the key down."

"It's about time!" Collins said jokingly.

Mark grunted and hung up the phone, throwing open the window and tossing the pouch down the waiting Collins below. A minute later Collins came through the door, a sobered look on his face.

"Hey Mark."

"Hey Collins."

"You want some coffee? You look like you need some."

Mark grinned thankfully and took the steaming cup from him. "Yeah, I didn't sleep so well last night. Winnie and I sort of had a fight."

Collins sat on the couch, grabbing the half-filled photo album from the floor in front and flipping through it. "About what? And what do you mean 'sort of'?"

Mark shrugged and gulped down the coffee, wincing when it burned his throat. "Well, about Roger… And it really couldn't technically be called a fight. We didn't argue. We just snapped and cried. She wouldn't let me touch her at all."

"Really?" Collins raised his eyebrows.

Mark nodded, running a grubby hand through his mussed blond hair. "She was shivering so bad and she was just crying so much. And I tried to hug her and she shied away. I finally got her to come to bed since I had the heat working, but when I told her that I loved her, she wouldn't say it back. It's worrying me."

"She's just upset, Mark," Collins said gently. "She'll come around. Besides, how are _you dealing with everything?"_

Mark shrugged and sat down next to Collins. "Well, as well as I ever have." Collins shot him a look. "Ok, I'm really upset. I started crying last night but I forced myself to stop. I hate crying."

"You know, I know that you were suicidal last year, Mark."

Mark's head snapped up. "What? Who told you that?"

"Maureen."

"I told her not to tell…"

"I just want to make sure that you're not going to… Well, hurt yourself. You've been doing so well ever since you met Winnie, but… This is hard. I mean, you lost your best friend."

Mark shook his head in disgust. "What, you think I'm going to fucking off myself and abandon her? Do you think I'm that selfish?"

"She isn't everything, Mark. Think of yourself for once. You've been so busy worrying about her for the past ten months that you haven't had any time for yourself."

"You're exaggerating."

"You treat her like a child. You coddle her. Everything revolves around her. I'm not saying that that's bad, but you still need to think about yourself. You always do this. You're too selfless Mark. You abandoned yourself to care for first Roger and now Winnie. You're not their parent, Mark."

"They don't have good parents. They needed someone to take care of them…" Mark said softly.

Collins shrugged and stood up. "Well, I just came by to see how you and Winnie were doing. Where is she anyway?"

"I don't know," Mark said, getting up to look for her. "I don't know if she's here. Winnie? Winnie, are you here?"

The bathroom door was open, she wasn't in there… Roger's bedroom? No. Her own bedroom? No. Mark's? No. Mark noticed a scrap of paper on the table next to the bed. It wasn't his and it was covered in handwriting that wasn't his.

Picking it up, he read, his heart dropping down to his feet.

_M –_

_Had to go away. I may be back, I may not. I'll be in touch. Don't come looking for me._

_-W_

He was frozen. Everything stopped around him. He was vaguely aware of Collins' presence in the room and heard him say something but it all sounded distant.

"Mark? Mark, what does it say? Mark, are you OK? What's it say?"

"She's gone," Mark murmured.

"What?"

"She's gone."

First there were four little Indians, then three, then two. And then there was one.


	18. Chapter 17

You know what I just realized? There's a character named Roger _Davies_ in Harry Potter. It just made me laugh.

Also, yesterday, I finally got the whole joke about the Well Hungarians. I've got to be the slowest person ever.

And also there will probably be one more chapter and then an epilogue after this. But don't hold me to that. I could go off on a tangent. But I doubt it. Hope you've enjoyed reading!

EDIT: Haha, thanks for noticing that Kelby. I fixed it. I was exhausted when I wrote it and exhausted when I edited it. That might be an bit of a explanation… Ah, so anyway.

Peace

-elodie

Wisp

Chapter 17

It felt so nice to be warm. She still shivered, but she was no longer cold. To feel the sun on her face, to have a warm breeze ruffle her hair, the sand under her feet.

She finished writing the sentence and signed her name simply, putting it into the envelope and sealing it.

Winnie turned to the sunset over the water and smiled contentedly. Although she missed New York, it was good to get away and not have to worry about anything.

She pulled the sunglasses down over her eyes and laid her head back in the sand. Her last thought before drifting off was how wonderful the feeling of sun was on her face.

*          *          *

"I got another letter from Winnie," Mark said quietly, sitting down next to Collins in the Life Café.

"What's it say?"

Mark shrugged. "Not sure. Haven't opened it."

"Miss her?"

"Yeah. But I'm kind of mad at her."

Collins took a sip of his tea. "For leaving?"

Mark nodded. "Yeah. She left me all alone."

"You have me. And Maureen and Joanne. Look at it this way: You needed some type to recuperate, she needed some escape time. It'll work out OK for the both of you."

Shrugging, Mark drummed his fingers on the table. He'd felt so empty and lonely since she left. He was the only person in the loft now and it felt so empty. Especially at night, when he and Winnie would curl up in bed and just talk until all hours of the morning. Now he had no one. Collins, Maureen and Joanne were there but it wasn't the same.

"So, are you going to open it?"

Mark sighed and opened the letter, scanning it quickly. It was short and sweet, just like Winnie always made them. The letter smelled slightly of cinnamon.

_M-_

_It's warm here. Warm in November! Can you believe that? I bet it's very cold up there. I'm almost getting a tan. Actually, I'm just freckling. I have farmer's freckle. I swam in the __Gulf of Mexico_. It's so different than the __North Atlantic___. Much warmer. I miss you. Say hello to Collins, Maureen and Joanne for me._

_-W_

Mark checked the postmark. Somewhere in Florida. "Collins, she's in Florida."

"Lucky bitch. And here we are freezing our asses off up here. I say we go find her."

"I bet she already left. The last one was postmarked in Tennessee and that was earlier this week."

"I'm sorry Mark."

Mark sighed. "Yeah, me too. I think I'm just going to go film people in the park if you don't mind. I've got an idea for a film. Want to come?"

Collins shook his head, offering Mark a smile. "Nah, I actually have to get to class. But thanks for the invitation. Take care of yourself, Mark."

Mark smiled back and got up from the table. "I will. See you Collins."

*          *          *

Winnie could feel the air become colder and colder. It was a few days since she'd had a real meal and she was hungry. How had she ended up back here again?

A tiny candle flickered in front of her crossed legs. It was dark out, freezing cold. Even Mark's old coat couldn't cut the chill from the wind. It had been almost three months since she'd left New York and now three months later, she found herself back again.

What was the date? Somewhere near the end of December.

Winnie shivered. She was in this exact same position a year ago. She breathed in deepy. _Cinnamon_. Even the candle was the same.

She should go home, she really should. She'd traveled all up and down the east coast. She went to Florida and Tennessee and hiked on the Appalachian Trail and saw Washington DC. She just hitched a ride to wherever she could go and made the best of it.

Not that it was a vacation. She shivered violently. God, no. The horrible people who hurt her… They made it hell for her. The drivers who wanted more than company... Winnie had learned to be careful, but when you're walking along a quiet stretch of highway out in the middle of nowhere, sometimes there isn't much of a choice.

Mark must hate her. She was certain of it.

Everything was so cold. She could barely think. Just cold and freezing and numbness. She shook everywhere. She remembered how she felt last year when she was all alone and scared and was frightened by how similar her current situation was to the year before.

Winnie's head spun. She'd been sick for a week. Everything was cloudy in her brain and she could barely see straight. There were a few snowflakes. She loved snow when she was younger. It was so pretty and pure. Now it was just another reminder of her loneliness and shivering.

She peeled off her glove and held her hand over the tiny flickering candle, accidentally extending too far, catching her hand in the fire. It burned but she welcomed the feeling in her hand.

Pulling her hand out of the flame, she examined it. It was still numb, but a different sort of numb. Blisters were appearing on her already pale skin.

"Honey, now aren't you supposed to be inside?"

Winnie looked up and smiled in her delirium. "Angel! You came back for me!"

Angel sat down next to her on the bench and gently blew the candle out. "Honey, you should be warm. You have a home, don't you? What are you doing out here in the cold?"

Winnie shrugged, taking the candle into her hands, wincing as feeling came rushing back into her blistered hand. "I don't know whether I want to go back home or not. Mark will be angry at me. You see, I left him three months ago, right after Roger died. I don't know whether he'll forgive me or not."

"Honey, you needed your space. From the looks of it, you've had too much. Mark loves you. I can tell. I've been keeping an eye on him. He needs you, honey."

"Angel, I'm scared."

"Well, weren't you afraid while you were away?"

Winnie answered slowly and questioningly, "Yes."

Angel smiled and patted her cheek. "Then what's to be afraid about?"

Winnie's lips parted in a tiny wisp of a smile. "Angel, I want to go home."

"Go home, honey. Go home." And then she vanished. Winnie's eyebrows shot up and she looked around for her.

"Angel? Angel are you there?"

"_Go home…"_

And so she did.

*          *          *

Mark was frustrated. He'd been working on this film for three months and nothing was coming out of it. He'd been stressed and strung out ever since Winnie's weekly letters stopped coming two months before.

He wasn't eating as much and was really beginning to lose it. Collins told him that he was getting worried but Mark insisted he was fine.

Yeah, right. Sure he was fine. If by fine he meant **F**_ucked-Up **I_nsecure _****N_eurotic and _**E****__motional._

He sighed and glanced at the clock. Shit it was late. Twenty-five minutes till Christmas. Winnie's birthday.

A small shudder shook his body for just a small second. A year ago he and Maureen had found Winnie on the bathroom floor in the bathroom at the Life Café. All the blood… He still remembered the blood. It was all over the floor, looking shockingly purple under the fluorescent lights.

He missed her. He missed being able to hold her in his arms, he missed filming her when she didn't think he was watching her. He missed taking her for walks in the park and photographing her and kissing her.

In twenty-one minutes she'd be nineteen. Mark remembered when he was nineteen. He'd just dropped out of college and had come to the city. He hadn't seen much of life yet. His parents were tolerant of him, supported him in everything he attempted. Upon arriving in the East Village, he realized that life hadn't even started yet. _Real_ life.

Winnie's life started when she was so young… She was only nineteen and had seen more of the world and more hardship than he had.

God, he missed her.

He missed Roger too. The loft was so empty. Mark hadn't touched any of his belongings. The Fender guitar was still propped up on it's stand in the corner. Sheet music still littered the floor of Roger's room. He hadn't even thrown out Roger's old taped razor. It still lay next to Mark's in the bathroom.

He needed to talk to someone. Anyone. Even someone who wasn't alive. He just needed to _talk_.

Mark had an idea. He grabbed his camera and placed it on the tripod, training it on the couch. He turned it on and sat down on the couch, clasping his hands in his lap. He hadn't realized how cold it was…

"December 24th, eleven forty-five PM, Eastern Standard Time. I'm all alone on Christmas Eve. I need some time to reflect. I've lost three of my friends this year. Two to AIDS. I loved Mimi and Roger. Roger was my best friend. I can't even begin to describe in words how much he meant to me. Mimi was his girlfriend, but she was my friend too. With the exception of April, I never really liked any of Roger's other girlfriends. But Mimi I liked. She really was a good person despite everything." Mark sighed, and took off his glasses, cleaning them on his shirt. "Is this fucking stupid or what? I mean, who I am going to show it to?"

 He put his glasses back on and breathed out heavily. "OK, I just need to get this out. Winnie was my girlfriend. I saved her and by saving her, she saved me. Does that make any sense? I mean, I was carrying a goddamn razor in my pocket. I was about ready to off myself the second Roger died. But she got to it first and that's how I met her. I loved her so much. She had problems. Much worse than mine. So I took care of her. She took care of me. We completed each other. We had a symbiotic relationship, y'know? I'd surely be dead without her and she'd most likely be dead without me. We were like…peanut butter and jelly. No, that's bad."

Mark scowled. _Think of a better analogy, you idiot. "We were like sodium and chlorine. Oh yeah, the inner science nerd in me is rearing it's ugly head," Mark laughed bitterly. "We're sodium and chlorine. Without each other we'd either blow up or poison someone. But together we're just normal table salt. Just regular old NaCl."_

Mark shook his head, biting a lip. "This is ridiculous. Comparing our relationship to table salt. I'm not good at analogies." He sighed heavily. "OK, this is enough for one night." He got up and turned the camera off.

"I should probably go to bed," Mark said to no one in particular. He'd taken to talking to himself. He'd always talked to himself, but usually he was hidden behind a camera. Now he carried on conversations with himself. "I'm not particularly tired, though." He glanced at the clock. 11:51. Almost midnight. Almost Christmas. Not that he really cared about Christmas. He was Jewish, after all. But he always did like celebrating Christmas with his friends. Where were those friends now?

He shouldn't be bitter. They'd tried to cheer him up. He was just being a grump. He was turning into Roger. Maureen and Joanne were in Hawaii for the week and Collins had gone home to Philadelphia to visit his parents. It's not like they were abandoning him. Not like Winnie did…

Yet try as he might, he wasn't mad at her. He regretted a lot of things about their relationship but he'd never change a thing. Mark just wished that she'd come home…

There was a knock at the door. Three small raps, small and tentative. Mark glanced at the clock.11:56. Four minutes to midnight. Who could it be?

He opened the door.

"I missed you, Mark," said Winnie softly. Then the lights flickered and went out completely.


	19. Chapter 18

God, this is wicked short. Anyway, just the epilogue left. It makes me sad. This story kept me going all through, well, September. Heh, it did _not take me long at all to write this. I'm quite surprised. So, I'm sorry that this part is short._

Also, to Mari, although I think you've gotten it by now: The **Well** **Hung**arians. Tee hee! Ooh, Roger… What have you been hiding from us all this time? Woof! Or as Inga says, 'Voof!' Hmm, let's see if anyone gets the reference. You get a cookie if you do.

Peace

-elodie

Wisp

Chapter 18

"So, the power still go off a lot?"

Mark shrugged, tossing a log into the fire. "Not really. This is the first time in over a month."

"Oh," Winnie said simply, sitting down on the couch gingerly. "I brought you something from Florida." She rummaged through her small bag and pulled out a box. "Here," She held it out to him.

Mark stared at the box for a second before taking it. "You didn't have to get me anything."

"I think I did," Winnie said sheepishly, averting his gaze. "It's the least I can do. I mean, you did sort of take me in over this past year. It's nothing much. I don't think I'll ever be able to repay you fully, but it's a start." She half-smiled, but kept herself from a full smile after seeing that Mark wasn't reciprocating it. "Go on, open it."

"You don't have to repay me," Mark murmured quietly, staring at the box in his hand.

"I do."

"But you really don't."

"Just open the box, Mark. C'mon, I was trying to do something nice," Winnie said, pressing her hand to her temples and gently massaging them.

Mark sighed and lifted the lid off the box. On a small bed of cotton lay a pure white sand dollar. "A sand dollar," He mused, holding it up. "It's beautiful."

Winnie smiled slightly, "I found it on the beach. Before it, I'd found bits and pieces of other sand dollars and I was getting discouraged. Just as I was about to give up, I found it."

"I'd always loved sand dollars."

"I know." Winnie pulled her knees up to her chest and shivered softly. "I know it's nothing much but-"

"It's perfect," Mark said firmly. "Are you still cold?"

Winnie nodded. "Just a little."

Mark sat on the couch next to her and grabbed her hands in an attempt to rub and make them warm. Winnie cried out in pain and yanked her hands back, her left hand cradling her right one against her chest.

"Mishap with a candle," She said quietly.

"Didn't you have a similar mishap last year?" Mark asked her, scowling. "Was it really an accident or did you do it to yourself?"

Winnie looked away sheepishly. "You know me, Mark. What do you think?"

"I'll get you a bandage," Mark said quietly. Winnie could hear the slight edge of disgust in his voice.

Winnie curled herself into the corner of the couch, shivering wildly. The room was slowly getting warmer, but she was still so cold. She was cold and scared. What a wonderful combination. What if Mark didn't take her back? Where would she go then?

Mark came back with the gauze bandages and bandaged her right hand up tightly. Winnie winced, but didn't cry out.

"You're angry at me," Winnie whispered after a few minutes of complete silence.

"Yes, of course I'm fucking angry at you," Mark snapped. "You abandoned me just when I needed you most. Wonderful way to treat the guy you're supposed to love."

Winnie shrank back from his angry outburst. "I'm sorry Mark, I just couldn't… I just couldn't take it anymore."

"How do you think _I felt? Do you think I could take much more of it? I'd spent the better part of the year taking care of __you, making sure __you were OK and making sure _you_ were happy and making sure _you_ weren't hurting yourself. I needed you then, OK? And you weren't there…" Mark felt tears coming to his eyes._

"Mark, I-"

"And those last days, you wouldn't even tell me that you loved me. I'd tell you that I love you and god, did I. And when I waited for your response, all I heard was silence or the occasional 'I know.' And it killed me. You didn't even say it in your letters. I didn't know if you did or not anymore Winnie. I still don't."

"Mark…"

They were both crying, huddled at opposite ends of the couch. It was Winnie that initiated it. She scooted over and wrapped her arms around Mark, leaning her head against his rising and falling chest, sobbing into his shirt. Mark stiffened at first, but slowly wrapped his arms around her delicate shoulders.

"Mark, I love you so much." Winnie said through her tears. "I just couldn't say it then. I was losing my mind, Mark. I needed no human attachment. I needed to cleanse myself of everything. And you… I couldn't cleanse myself of you. You'd buried yourself so deep inside me. I tried to detach myself from you but you loved me too much. So I left, figuring total detachment would help me forget. But I couldn't."

Mark kissed the top of her head, his arms tightening around her as he began to cry harder. "Is that why you came back?"

"I don't know…" Winnie said faintly. "I sort of found myself on a park bench with a cinnamon scented candle in front of me. And I look around and realize that I'm back in New York and I think 'What am I doing here?' I didn't want to be back there. But then… Then my guardian angel set me on my feet and let me come to my senses. I need you, Mark."

Burying his face in her hair, Mark whispered, "If you need me so much, then why did you leave?"

"I didn't know I needed you."

"You can't even begin to realize how much I need you."

"Mark, what you said about taking care of me this past year…" Winnie bit her lip, pulling away slightly. "I had no idea you felt like that. You never said anything."

Mark smiled softly. "I loved you too much to say anything."

"You know I love you more than I can even express with words, right?"

Mark kissed the tip of her nose. "Of course. I know that now. But Winnie, you've got to realize. If you hadn't come into my life, I'd probably be dead."

"Don't say that, Mark," Winnie murmured, her lips against his neck.

"It's true. Last Christmas Eve, I was so mad at the world and everyone in it, only I refused to show anyone. It was pent up inside me. I was ready to slash my wrists open and let the blood flow all out at any second. But you beat me to the punch. I owe my life to you."

Winnie's hold on him tightened. "I had no idea it was that serious. You never told me."

"I'm sorry. You never asked."

Winnie glanced at the clock. 12:45. "I've been nineteen for forty-five minutes," She said quietly.

Glancing at the clock, Mark nodded. "So you have been. Happy birthday, Miss Winnie. I'm sorry that I have nothing to give you."

"Yes you do."

"I do?"

"You're here, aren't you? That's enough."

"I love you."

"I love you more."

Trembling, Winnie kissed him for the first time in three months. And with that kiss, three months of pent-up frustration and tension and hard feelings vaporized and drifted up to the ceiling where it was whisked away with the smoke from the fire.

With a tender urgency, intimacy came again when it hadn't for so long. And in that cold, cold night, the two lovers were truly, truly warm.


	20. Epilogue

It's over. Woot! I actually finished something. I'd like to thank all the people who reviewed, especially Kelby and Mari. I'd also like to thank Maggie and Nikki for hosting me on BohoGirls. It's a great site people! Go to it! Lots of great fan fiction.

My next story is already in the works. Actually, I'll be posting the first chapter a little while after I post this. So look for that.

Reviews are the food of life people. And without further adieu…the end.

Peace

-elodie

Wisp

Epilogue

"Happy twenty-eighth, Miss Winnie," Mark said, planting a firm kiss on the top of her head.

"Mmm, don't remind me," Winnie groaned. "I never imagined I'd feel so old."

Mark coughed loudly. "How do you think it feels to be over thirty?"

"Oh, shush you." Winnie said playfully, sitting up in bed and stretching. "Are we still visiting your parents today?"

"They want to see Roger again. They're always complaining that we never bring him around."

"And then we'll eat dinner with Maureen and Joanne at the Life tonight, right?"

Mark nodded and swung his legs over the side of the bed. "Yep. Are you going to be OK?"

Winnie grinned devilishly and forced herself to stand up. "I feel like I'm going to drop any second."

"Aw, you've got another week." Mark stood behind her, wrapping his arms around her.

Winnie leaned back so she could look up at his face, her nightshirt stretching tightly around her swollen stomach. "Would _you_ like to carry this baby around for the last week?"

Mark grinned impishly. "No, I'll pass."

"What time are your parents expecting us?"

"Ten."

"We better get going."

Mark pouted. "Do we have to?"

Winnie punched his shoulder playfully, slipping into her pair of comfy sweatpants. "This was _your idea."_

"Very true. But still…"

"Bring your camera. It'll keep you busy. Besides, your mother just wants to see Roger. He _is her grandson, you know. She was so angry at you when you let her miss his third birthday." Winnie said, pulling a gauzy shirt over her head._

"I didn't _let her. That was purely an accident. Lack of communication on _her_ part."_

Winnie raised her eyebrows. "Mark, she leaves a message on our machine at least twice a week. She at least _attempts to communicate. You still screen your calls, for Pete's sake."_

Mark mumbled something unintelligibly as he dressed himself.

Winnie rolled her eyes, smirking at him. "It's just for a few hours. Besides, she misses you. She told me so."

"She did?"

Winnie nodded. "Yeah. She loves you, you know."

Mark grumbled, "Could've fooled me."

"Mark," Winnie wrapped him in a big hug, "Your family loves you. I mean, yeah, it's hard to believe it sometimes, but they do."

"I love you, Winnie."

Winnie smiled, her heart swelling. "I love you too."

Mark kissed her gently, running his hands down her back and resting them on her hips. "We have a little while," He said to her quietly in between kisses.

"Mark," Winnie said playfully, cracking into a smile. "We need to leave soon. And I'm nine months pregnant."

"That never stopped us before…" Mark laid her back on the bed, kissing her neck.

Winnie blushed and began giggling. "Mark, that tickles." She shivered as his mouth ran from her neck to her chest.

"Mommy?"

Mark and Winnie sat up quickly, seeing their three-year-old son standing in the doorway. "Oh, Roger. We didn't know you were up yet."

The little blond boy climbed up on the bed next to them and cuddled in between them. "What was Daddy doing to Mommy?"

Mark looked to Winnie sheepishly and pulled Roger into his lap. "Well Rog, Daddy was just tickling Mommy."

"You was?"

"Yep. Mommy _loves to be tickled. Why don't you tickle her while I go make breakfast and then you can open your presents, OK?"_

"Mark!" Winnie squealed as Roger grinned wildly and began tickling her.

*          *          *

"Grandma!"

"Hey little Mr. Roger. Grandma has a candy cane for you inside the house. How does that sound?"

"I love candy canes!" Roger yelled, running inside the house.

Winnie laughed as Mark attempted to help her out of the car. "Mark, I can do it. I'm not an invalid."

"Sorry Miss Winnie."

Mrs. Cohen held out her arms to her son. "Do I get a kiss? You haven't seen me in a year!"

"Hey Mom," Mark bent down and kissed his mother on the cheek. "It's nice to see you again."

Mrs. Cohen nodded her head towards him and bustled off to wrap Winnie in a tight hug. "Oh, Dearie, come inside. You shouldn't be out in the cold in your condition. Come now, inside. Cindy and the kids are in there."

A half an hour later, they found themselves seated in the Cohen family sitting room, watching Cindy's eleven-year-old daughter, Ashley, play with Roger on the floor. Cindy was chatting with Mark on the couch, having finally decided to put their differences aside and get along. Cindy's fifteen-year-old son, Lukas, sat in the far corner of the room, curled on one side of the love seat. He leaned his head against the window above, obviously bored out of his mind.

Winnie felt bad for him. She knew what it was like to sit on the edge of a crowded room and just feel out of place. So she decided to befriend him.

She plopped down in the seat next to him and offered him a small smile. "So you're Lukas, huh?"

He turned his head slowly, glaring at her. "No. I'm Bridget."

"Sorry, stupid question. Are you as bored as I am here?"

Lukas nodded. "Yeah. I didn't think you'd get bored here. You _are_ an adult."

"I'll tell you a secret," Winnie whispered, leaning in closer to him. "I'm really a kid at heart. And I hate any sort of social gatherings. I get nervous around people."

"Me too," Lukas said quietly.

"Except Mark. Mark never made me nervous. He's wonderful."

Lukas looked at her surprised. "Really? Uncle Mark just always seemed like kind of a big nerd."

Winnie grinned. "Oh, he is. It's so endearing. One time here we had…Wait, never mind. I shouldn't tell you that…"

"What?"

"Well, let's just say he made Star Wars sexier than I'd ever imagined."

"I don't want to know, do I?"

"Probably not."

"Grandma's mad that you and Uncle Mark aren't married yet."

Winnie cringed. "Yeah, I've heard. Marriage is kind of a scary thing to us. It's something we've talked about but we've always been too scared to go through with it."

"Uncle Mark always seemed like kind of a wimp too."

Winnie patted Lukas' hand, biting her lip. "Lukas, your Uncle Mark is anything but a wimp. He's had to put up with so much shit in his life. He lost three of his best friends within three years and then another a few years later. He's the strongest person I know. My rock, y'know? Always there for me. And I love him dearly for it."

*          *          *

"Your nephew is a nice kid," Winnie said to Mark as they were driving back to the city.

Mark grinned at her. "You think? He always reminded me of myself. A big science nerd, into film, loves sci-fi."

"He thinks _you're a nerd."_

"Well, I am."

"That's what I told him."

"Hey!"

Winnie grinned and patted his arm. "Your family's really not that bad, you know. Cindy seems different. Well…nicer."

Mark nodded, his eyes still focused on the road. "She's got a rich boyfriend."

"Ah. That'd do it."

"Winnie, have you ever thought about marriage?"

Winnie turned to him, a bit surprised. "Well, yes. Of course I have. I think we've talked about it before."

Mark shrugged. "Well, I mean _really_ thought about it. Like we've joked about it before and my mother's nagged us about it, but… Oh, never mind."

"OK…" Winnie deflated, turning to gaze out the window. She could hear Roger snoring softly from the back seat.

"Let's get married," Mark said softly.

Winnie's head spun around to look at him. "What?"

"Married. You and me. I have a ring and everything," He grabbed the steering wheel firmly with one hand and rooted around in his jacket pocket, pulling out a small box. "It was my grandmother's ring."

Winnie opened the box and gasped. "Mark, it's beautiful. Of course I'll marry you." She leaned over and kissed his cheek.

Mark's cheeks flushed pink and he grinned at her. "You really will?"

Nodding earnestly, Winnie slipped the ring on her finger. "Perfect fit," She said. "And of course I really will. I love you, Mark."

"Love you too. You look tired."

Winnie yawned widely. "Oh, I am. Mind if I take a nap?"

"Not at all."

Mark couldn't help but smile as Winnie curled up as best she could and drifted off to sleep. Life was pretty good. Pretty damn good if you ask him. He had a girlfriend - no, fiancé - a son, another child on the way, loving friends, and he was starting to connect with his family after so many years of resentment.

He glanced back into the backseat and grinned at the sight of a sleeping Roger. When Winnie had found out she was pregnant, it had been right around Mark's thirtieth birthday, just when he was starting to doubt his purpose in life. He was failing miserably as a filmmaker; he was waiting tables for a living. But Roger gave him something to truly live for.

Mark had never imagined that he'd be a father. He'd never really imagined Winnie as a mother. But the day she gave birth to Roger, a sweltering July day, and they both held the tiny blond baby in their arms, Mark knew that this was meant to be. They'd brought this person into the world and he would save them both.

Not that they really needed saving. After Winnie came back for good, nine years before, they'd started going to psychiatrist together. They both got jobs; they both began to stabilize their lives. Two years later, Winnie's Aunt Lilia died of breast cancer and they received a tidy sum of money and the house in Provincetown.

Neither Mark nor Winnie could stand to go back to the house where they'd lost their Roger. So they sold it, profiting even more from the sale of it. For the first time in their young lives, they were not financially strapped and they were going to enjoy it.

Their first task was to fix up the loft. It had been steadily falling apart over the years and they redid everything. By then, Winnie was pregnant so they needed to create a room for the baby. They turned it into an ode to Roger, the old Roger. There were musical notes painted all over the wall, some forming a melody that, if you concentrated hard enough, sounded almost like a song from Puccini's La Boheme. Musetta's Waltz was what Mark said it was.

Mark still remembered the night that Winnie told him she was pregnant. She'd been showing symptoms for a while, but Winnie was always sick and Mark had just attributed it to her lacking immune system. She sat him down on the couch and told him straight out, "Mark, I'm pregnant."

He's been stunned to say the least, but _so_ happy. He whooped and began to dance her around the room. Then he called Maureen and Joanne, Collins, his mother, even Benny, to tell them the news.

It happened to have been the last time he ever spoke to Collins. He passed away in his sleep that night.

Mark sobered, thinking about his deceased friends. There were five of them. Collins, Roger, Mimi, Angel and…April. All to AIDS. He shivered. How he hated AIDS. It was one of the few things he truly hated. But god, did he hate it.

Startled out of his reverie by a sharp snore from Winnie, he smiled and gently pushed a strand of her away from her face. He could also hear Roger snoring softly in the backseat. He loved his family so much. And they loved him. And that's all he needed.

Life was good. He had a future wife, a son, a child that was about to be born any day, a loving family, a job, enough money to live comfortably, and love. Mark had reciprocated love.

Yes, although it may be hard, life was good.

_finis_


End file.
